


A Bleary, Hopeful Shade of Blue

by AtoTheBean



Series: A Bleary, Hopeful Universe [1]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Bisexuality, Coming Out, Family, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 63,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtoTheBean/pseuds/AtoTheBean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Funny how such a little thing can change your life forever</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 4

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this first chapter today to try to help the "1000 Pinto Fic August Challenge" AND celebrate Pie's birthday. 
> 
> Basically, I saw that picture on Instagram of Zach carrying a baby that looked JUST LIKE HIM (you know the one), and then this happened. (those fuckers)
> 
> Thanks to JunoMagic and NixDucky for editing help, and the Pinto Beans for help with baby names.

“Fuck,” Chris muttered as he stubbed his toe in the dark.  The phone was still ringing in the living room, and Chris rushed to get to it.  If someone was calling this late, it must be important.

Unless one of his friends was just drunk.  Or in Europe.

He stumbled to the table by the door, read the name on the phone, and answered it before it stopped.

“Zach?”

“Oh thank god you answered.”

His voice was weird.  Was he laughing?

“Dude, are you drunk dialing me?”

A strangled sound, “No.”  And then another sound from inside the house.

“It’s okay,” Chris whispered to the darkness, “go back to sleep.”

“Oh shit, you’re not alone. I’m sorry, I have no idea what time it is.  This can wait.”

“What?  No, I’m alone.  Well, Katie’s in the spare room, but you didn’t interrupt anything but sleep,” he said, padding back down the hall in his sleep pants.  He went into the office and closed the door.  “Okay, now I’m alone.  What has you calling me at…” he squinted at the clock, “three in the morning not drunk?”  And his stomach felt a little like lead.

He could hear Zach breathing on the other end of the line, but he was too bleary to have much patience.  “Zach—”

“—I have a baby.”

Oh, this again.  Chris fell heavily in the desk chair.  “Yeah, I know.  You and Miles are adorable together,” he said in a tone that definitely implied _we’ve been through this_.

“No, Miles is gone.”

Chris shook his head, trying to clear it.  “You and Miles broke up and you already have a new boyfriend?”

“No,” Zach cried, and Chris sat up straighter, trying to follow what was happening.  Because Zach was really upset, he finally realized.  “Miles is gone, because I have a baby.”

Did he mean— “Like a _baby_ baby?”

“Yes.”

Chris blinked in the darkness a few times, trying to parse that.  “How did that even happen?”

“The usual way.”

“Okay,” Chris said, blinking.  “But unless I’m really misinformed, the people you fuck don’t have the right internal anatomy for that to be possible.  And lately, the people you fuck... is Miles.”

Brokenly, in fits and starts, Zach explained.  The long version involved a girl from his high school drama class, someone he’d always admired and was even attracted to before he’d fully embraced his sexuality.  And nothing had happened between them.  But around nine months ago, before Miles, there had been a party in New York with a ridiculous amount of alcohol.  And she’d been in town for a minor role in an off-Broadway production.  And old crushes die hard.

The short version was _the condom broke_.

“Man, what are the odds?”  It was completely rhetorical.  “So she wants you to help now?”

“No, she wants to give it up for adoption, but she needs the father’s permission.  So last week, I donated a vial of blood, along with two other guys.  I’m the lucky winner.”

Wow.  That was just… wow.  But— “If she didn’t want to keep it, why didn’t she just—”

“—Catholic.”

Right.  Just like Zach.  But more of an adherent, apparently.  Or maybe not, if there were three contenders.  But in this one issue…

“So, I still don’t understand what happened with Miles.”

“I told him I wanted the baby.  That I didn’t want my son to be put up for adoption.”

Chris rubbed his brow.  That wasn’t exactly a surprise, but...wow.  

“But still.  I mean, he always seemed so…”  saccharine sweet, like he was playing house, irritatingly infatuated, “...into kids.”

“Other people’s kids, apparently.  He couldn’t handle it.  Didn’t want a family yet.  Couldn’t deal with the fact that I’d screwed a woman.”

Now Chris was angry.  “What business is it of his who you slept with before he was in your life?”

“None, now.” And Zach’s voice was so broken, Chris wanted to punch a wall.  Or a little twink.

“Give me his number.”

“Chris, no.”

“I just want to see if I can get him to calm down and think this through.”  And tell him what a little shit he’s being.

“He doesn’t even like you.”

Well that’s mutual.  “But he respects me as your friend.  So he might listen.”

“We’ve talked for hours.  Multiple times.  The last time right before I called you. I don’t see what you can say that would change anything.”

Chris continued to argue, and in an act that showed just how desperate Zach truly was, he gave Chris the number.

The conversation didn’t go well.

Chris did have the satisfaction of telling Miles that he would regret this, that Zach was the best man he would _ever_ date, and that he didn’t deserve him.  So he probably made things much worse, though he felt a bit better.

He sat in the dark in his office trying to think of what he could do that _wouldn’t_ make things worse.  He opened his laptop and looked as his schedule as he dialed Zach back.

“Any luck?” Zach asked, with absolutely no hope in his voice.

Chris’ pause was brief.  “You don’t want that asshole as your baby daddy anyway.”  Zach let out a strangled laugh or sob.  “So, you’re really doing this?”

He could hear the sniffles as Zach tried to pull himself together.  “Chris, I’m a gay man.  Even if I were in a stable relationship, there’d be little chance I’d ever be able to adopt an infant.  Having a biological child... I’ve never even hoped for it.  There’s no way I can pass this by.  Timing’s not ideal, but I understand that happens to a lot of people.”

Chris scrubbed his face.  “Yeah.  Babies are often little bundles of _surprise!_ ” Though usually the family had nine months to prepare, and not one week.  “So where are you now?”

“Pittsburgh.  I meet with lawyers and doctors tomorrow.  And then, if all goes well, I’ll meet him.”  He sounded… lost.  No.  Alone.  Like he wanted to be happy, but he was scared out of his mind.

“You at your mom’s?”

“No.  I haven’t told her yet.  I wanted to make sure it was real first.  I’m in a hotel downtown, near the legal offices.”

“What time is your meeting?” Chris asked as he drafted an email to his assistant: _Clear my schedule for the next two weeks.  Family emergency.  Everyone’s okay, but I need to take care of some things._

“Three tomorrow afternoon.”

The line was quiet for a while as Chris searched the internet for flights.  Zach must have taken the silence as concern.  

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

“What?  No!  Of course not.  I think I’d do the same thing.  I’ve even been in the position to have to think about it very hard.  But I wasn’t the lucky winner.”  He paused as he read down the page of options.  No, no, no, and finally,  “I can be there at one.”

“What?”

“I mean, if you’d rather do this alone, or pull your mom in, that’s cool.  But I can be there at one.  My cursor is hovering over the “purchase this ticket” button as we speak.”

Zach’s shock was apparent in the following bewildered silence.  But his voice was a bit stronger, if incredulous, when he asked, “Why would you do that?”

“Why did you call me?”

“I… because you’re…”  But he couldn’t say it, whatever it was.  His voice was going strange again.  And they’d never been very good at defining what they were to each other.  

“Brothers-in-arms, man,” Chris said, quoting one of Zach’s ridiculous Instagram posts.  “You don’t have to do this alone, Zach.  Not if you don’t want to.  I’ll help you sort through the meeting with lawyers, and doctors, and your mom, and buying all the baby crap you’ll need, and anything else.  I just cleared my schedule for the next two weeks.”

“You’d really do that?”

Chris grinned, knowing he’d gotten it right this time.  “Let’s welcome your son into your life, Zach.”

He could hear Zach smile through his snuffles.  “Yeah.  Okay.  That sounds great.  I’ll see about getting you a room in this hotel.  I’ll text you the information.”

“Sounds good.  Better let me go and pack; I have an early flight to catch,” he said, and his smile just would not go away.  “See you in a few hours.  And get some sleep, Zach.  Might be your last chance.”

Zach actually laughed.  “I’ll try.  I think I’ll be able to, now.  Fly safe. And Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“I… thanks.  So much.”

Chris was still smiling as he drove to the airport; the sun was just rising over the hills, painting the sky a bleary, hopeful shade of blue.


	2. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heart can be stolen in a fraction of a second.

Chris and Zach sat side by side on one side of a large wooden table in their (thankfully not quite matching) suits.  They had been a half hour early, and Zach was chewing his thumb as he waited.  Chris had seen his friend nervous many times, but this was out of the ballpark.  Chris placed his hand on Zach's thigh, and the jittering that Zach didn't even seem aware of stopped as Zach's eyes widened.  He removed his thumb from his mouth, and Chris laced his own fingers together on the table.

"Sorry."

"It's fine.  But I don't think you need to be nervous.  He's _your_ kid, Zach.  They're not going to keep him from you.  It's not like an adoption hearing."

"That's how it feels, though.  What if they think I can't take good care of him?  I’m on location so much, what if—"

The door opened and two men in suits walked in with large stack of papers.

"Mr. Quinto," said the man in the grey suit, offering his hand with a smile.  "Thank you for meeting us on such short notice.  As you know, we're trying to keep your son out of child protective services, and Ms. Campelo has already been discharged.  The hospital is continuing to monitor his health, and we've been told he'll likely be ready for discharge tonight or tomorrow morning."  Introductions were made around the table, but Chris forgot their names almost immediately.  

"Is there a problem with his health?" Zach asked.

The man in the blue suit looked at some papers, shaking his head, and Chris could feel Zach tense beside him.

"Nothing serious.  He developed a touch of jaundice day two, but he's responding well to light treatment.  Lost weight days one and two, but is gaining now.  Accepts the bottle easily and has been sleeping in two hour increments.  All pretty normal.  Here is his Apgar score, along with the other neonatal tests," he said, handing a paper over to Zach.

"I don't know what any of this means."

Blue-suit, who turned out to be a doctor who worked as a medical consultant to the law firm, explained the scores, the hearing tests, and a bunch of other statistics.

"So, he's fine?" Zach asked, some tension finally leaving his shoulders.

"As far as we can tell, he's fine.  Ms. Campelo also made her prenatal records public, and even had herself tested for drugs regularly.  She was clean the entire pregnancy," and Chris hadn't even realized that could be an issue, "followed her pre-natal regiment perfectly, never missed an appoint—"

The door opened again and a woman and an older couple walked in.

"Sorry we're late," the older man said, gruffly.  "Traffic."

"It's not a problem," said gray-suit — the actual lawyer.  "I told you before, Ms. Campelo, your presence isn't mandatory at this point.  You—"

He stopped talking because Zach was up and around the table and taking the girl in his arms.

"Hey Zachy," she said into his shirt.

"Miranda."  Zach held her tight for another moment.  "I should have been here to help."

She shook her head.  "I couldn't be sure it was yours until he was born and they could draw blood.  The other tests seemed so risky.  I couldn't make myself do them.  I didn't mean to screw things up for you."

He kissed the top of her head.  "It’s going to be okay."

"I took good care of him.  I did everything they told me to."

"You did great,” Zach said, squeezing her tighter.  “The doctor says he's perfect.  You did great, and you don’t have to worry.  I'll take it from here.  I'll take good care of him."

Silent tears were running down her cheeks as she nodded, and Chris was pretty sure everyone else in the room felt like they were intruding.  But that didn't stop grey-suit from clearing his throat.

"If you're ready, Mr. Quinto, I have the papers drawn up granting you full custody."

Zach's voice was thick with emotion when he asked, "Where do I sign?"

Blue-suit came to the hospital with them, showed the paperwork to the staff, and Zach was fitted with a medical bracelet with a barcode that matched the one on his son's wrist.  Then the nurses took them into a room adjoining the nursery and started suiting them up with blue paper robes and caps over their heads.  Chris tried to refuse but Zach insisted he suit up, too.  Zach was so excited, it was making everyone grin, even the passing nurses and orderlies.

"Zach, you go in first.  Give me your phone and I'll call your mom and get her down here for a surprise."

His face fell.  "I should call her," he said.

"She'll understand.  I'll be sure not to scare her.  Where's your phone?"

"Front left pocket," he said, lifting his scrubbed hands over his head.  

Chris slipped a hand through the slit in the back of the paper robe, around Zach's torso and into his pants pocket.  He could feel the heat coming off Zach's body — as well as his own face — as he rummaged for the phone.

"Got it.  I'll be there in a minute," he said, nodding to the door leading to the nursery.

Zach beamed as he was led away, and Chris opened the phone and scrolled through the contacts.

The phone had only rung three times when Margo answered, "Zach?"

"Actually, it's Chris Pine, Mrs. Quinto."

"Chris!  How nice to talk to you.  Why do you have Zach's phone?  Is he okay?"  

"He's fine.  Perfect, actually.  But he needs you to meet him at Mercy Hospital as soon as you can get here.  Can you drive, or should I look up a taxi service for you?"

"I can drive.  You're sure he's okay?"

"Yes, but I'm going to let him explain everything.  Call this number when you get here and one of us will come get you, okay?"

Chris washed up and the nurse helped him put on his robe and then led him through the double doors.  He stopped in his tracks.  Zach was seated in the corner, holding a tiny infant with a shock of dark brown hair.  Their faces were inches apart and they were staring into each others’ eyes.  Zach was making exaggerated expressions as he spoke softly, and if Chris thought Zach made ridiculous faces when talking to his dogs, that was nothing compared to what was happening here.  He suddenly wished that Joe were here to photograph the event, or that he’d at least brought a decent camera, but everything had happened so fast.  He took out his phone, zooming in as far as he could from where he was standing, and tried to capture what he was seeing: the first moments of Zach with his child.  He slowly moved forward, and after about ten shots Zach looked up with the most amazed smile on his face.

“Chris, this is my son.”

“Of course he is,” Chris said, smiling.  “With that hair and those eyes, who else’s son could it be?  God, he looks just like you, Zach.”

“Do you think so?”

“Are you kidding?”  He took a few more shots with Zach looking up and then came closer brushing his hand along the tips of downy brown hair on the infant’s head.  “He’s even sporting your hipster ‘just out of bed’ look, and he’s pulling it off with no product.”

“Hush, you.  He’s beautiful.”

Chris knelt down.  “He really is.  Hey, Little Quinto Man,” Chris said, brushing his fingers along the soft skin at the baby’s temple.   “What do you think of all this?”

The baby jerked his head around, searching for the new voice.  “Wow, his eyes are so dark and blue.  What color are Miranda’s?”

“Sort of green.  Joe’s are blue, and I probably carry the gene. So they could stay this color, or turn brown, the nurses said.”  

“I thought they were brown from across the room, they’re so dark.  They’re the same shape as yours, though.  Seriously, I may just call him Mini-Z.”

“No you won’t,” he chastised, but he was still grinning.  

Chris pulled out his phone and took another few pictures.

“Would you like me to get one with both of you?” a nurse asked.

“Oh, that’s not—”

“That would be great,” Zach interrupted.

Chris handed over the phone and repositioned himself so he and Zach were both facing the nurse, and Zach shifted his son so he was cradled between them.  The nurse took several shots and then handed the phone back so they could inspect them.  Zach was thrilled and thanked her.

“He’s starting to root; I’ll fix you a bottle.”

“He’s doing what?” Zach asked, looking down.

“When he moves his mouth back and forth like that he’s looking for the breast.”

“Oh.  Well, I’m fresh out of those.”

“Don’t worry," she said with a smile.  "He has a good appetite and loves the bottle.  I’ll get you set up and show you how to get him started.

Zach looked a little overwhelmed as she walked away, his eyes wide.  Chris laughed and snapped another picture.

Zach was just settling down to feed the baby when the other phone buzzed in Chris' pocket.

"Oh, that's your mom.  I'll go bring her up."

Zach was concentrating so hard on getting the baby to take the bottle, he just nodded absently.

Chris peeled off his robe and cap, dumping them in a bin.  He ran downstairs, weaving through the large building to the lobby.

"Mrs. Quinto," he called.

She turned and smiled at him.  "Call me Margo, dear."  She gave him a hug.  "Now what's this all about?  Is Miles okay?"  The unspoken question was of course, why was Chris coordinating with her instead of Zach's boyfriend?

"I'm going to let Zach explain that, too," he said, leading her to the back of the hospital and to the elevator.

"Chris," called the nurse as he exited the elevator, "we've moved them.  Room 508."

"Robes?" he asked, turning toward the side hall the nurse was pointing to.

"You don't need them anymore.  Doc cleared him for normal contact.  Just wash your hands again.”

Chris nodded and waved as he directed Margo down the hall.  “Right through here,” he said, opening the door for her.  Zach looked up as the door opened, smiling brightly from a chair by a small window, tugging unknowingly at Chris’ heart.  Zach always looked good, whether his expression was sexy-glowering-serial-killer, aloof-hipster-asshole, or barely-smirking-Vulcan, but this new stupidly-happy-dad look was fast becoming one of Chris’ favorites.

“Zach?” Margo asked breathlessly.

“Mom, come meet your grandson.”

“Grandson?” she asked in amazement.  “But how—”

“Miranda Campelo.  It’s a long story, but what matters is she granted me full custody.  We just signed the papers two hours ago.  I only found out he was mine day two _days_ ago, and that she was pregnant a week ago.  It’s been a little crazy.”

“Oh, Zachary,” she said, reaching out to touch the baby’s tiny head.

“Why don’t you sit here so you can hold him?”

“Wash your hands, first,” Chris said, gently.  “Remember what the nurse said?”

“Oh, yes.”

A moment later she was sitting holding Little Man, and Zach was hovering over her, unable to stop touching the baby himself.  Chris took more pictures with his phone. The lighting in here was actually decent, and Chris was pleased with the shots, despite the crappy lens on the phone.  He even got them to pose together for a family portrait, facing him, with the light streaming in from the side through the window.  Zach and his mom had the same smile and light in their eyes.

Chris retreated while they talked quietly.  Zach explained the last few weeks to his mother: shooting in New York, hearing from Miranda’s lawyer about his possible paternity, the baby, Miles’ absence…

Chris tried not to eavesdrop, though he was fascinated by the details of the conversations with Miles he’d kept himself from asking about.  He opened the browser on his phone and typed _baby supplies coming home from hospital,_ and was astounded at the number of must-have items.  He started a list in a notes app when he heard his name, “— has been great.  He just dropped everything and flew out here within hours of my call, and has been with me through all of it.  I’m not sure how I’d have done it without him.”

Margo smiled up at him, and Zach was absolutely beaming at him, and he wasn’t really used to such non-ironic affection from Zach.  He knew he was blushing again.

The nurse came in then to teach Zach how to sponge bathe the baby until the umbilical cord stump fell off. Chris stood back, taking pictures until Zach pulled him over, making sure he got all the instructions as well.  Zach even took pictures of Chris bathing the baby.

When the child was clean and dry again, the nurse helped Zach swaddle him in one of the standard-issue blue and pink blankets.  When he was wrapped snug, and cradled in Zach’s arms, the nurse moved over to Margo, chattering away asking where she was from and what she thought of her grandson.

“You haven’t held him yet,” Zach said softly, and much closer than Chris thought he was standing.  

“Oh, well, I didn’t want to imp—”

“Please don’t do that,” Zach said quietly.

Chris looked up into his face, surprised by his earnestness.  

“Don’t act like you don’t belong here, or you aren’t part of this.”

“Zach,” he said softly, shaking his head.  “We both know I’m not the one you wish were here with you.”

Zach looked down at his son, then bit his lip.  “Actually, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather do this with.  You’ve been a rock.  Do you... do you want to hold him?” And his hesitancy cut Chris to the core.

“I would really, really love to.”    

Zach grinned and placed the child in Chris’ arms.  

He gasped sharply, “Zach.”

“I know.”

“Oh my god, _Zach!_ ”

“I know.”

“He’s… god he’s so small, and light.  And absolutely perfect.”

“I know,” Zach said, grinning wildly.  “And he’s going to need his uncle-in-arms.”

Chris brushed his hand along the baby’s temple.  “Anything he needs.”

They were grinning at each other when Margo approached.

“Have you chosen a name for him?” Margo asked in a whisper, caressing the baby’s cheek.

Zach tilted his head, looking at his son’s face.  

“I was thinking of sticking with the Quinto tradition of Biblical names.  Nathan means ‘gift’, which feels incredibly appropriate.  So maybe Nathan John, after Dad too?  Or I could combine them and use Jonathan.”  Chris flinched a little, remembering Zach’s breakup with Jon.  But if Zach was over it enough to name his son Jonathan, Chris had no right to feel strange.  “Micah’s sort of nice, or Lucas.  Micah Jonathan?  I don’t know.  It seems like such an important decision.  So much harder than naming the dogs.”

Chris laughed softly as he swayed the child back and forth.

“What do you think when you look at him?”  Margo asked.

“That he’s a gift,” Zach said without hesitation.

“Well then,” Margo said, smiling down at the baby.  “I’d have to agree.”

Zach looked up at Chris, raising his eyebrows.  Surprised at being consulted, Chris looked back down at the little face.  He could see Zach so clearly in the baby’s features, and as much as Zach felt the child was a gift in his life, Chris knew that he, too, was being offered a gift.  Not just Zach’s friendship, which he already had, but the chance to be part of the foundation of a family.  He raised his eyes back to Zach, who was watching expectantly.

“He looks like a Nate to me.”

Zach smiled, looking down at his son again.  “Welcome to the family, Nathan John.”


	3. Days 7-8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep deprivation is a way of being. And Zach is a convincing pirate.

** Day 7, 4:18 a.m. **

"Fuck," Chris mumbled, stubbing his toe in the dark as he walked toward the soft whimper, hoping he got there before it developed into a full blown wail.

"Hold on, Little Man; I've got you covered."  He was just lifting the baby from the bassinet in the suite when the door to Zach's bedroom opened, revealing a very exhausted, very rumpled, barely dressed Zachary.  Chris' mouth went dry.  He gathered Nathan in his arms and brushed his nose against downy hair.  Why hadn't anyone ever told him how good baby heads smelled?  Was it like some super secret parents-only thing?  "Go back to sleep Zach; I've got him this time."

Zach swayed on his feet.  "You sure?"

"Yeah.  I've had more than four hours.  I'm good."  The baby was bobbing his open mouth along Chris' bare collar bone.  "I read you Little Man.  Time to eat."  He looked back up at Zach who was watching him with the strangest expression.  "Seriously.  You haven't had more than two hours at a time for days.  Nathan and I are going to bond a little.  Go back to bed."

Chris laughed as Zach swayed again, mumbled something incoherent, and stumbled back to his darkened room without closing the door, like he was trying to do a Captain Jack Sparrow impression.

"What are you doing to your daddy, Little Man?" Chris asked as he carried the baby over to the makeshift changing station on the smaller of two sofas.  "You're turning him into Johnny Depp!  Now that isn't nice.  We like him just the way he is.  Not as some hipster pirate."  He continued to babble on as he changed the diaper, cleaned the blackened stump of umbilicus, and changed Nathan's t-shirt.  He'd learned over the last day or so that Nathan considered silence a sign that you might not be trying to take care of his needs — a definite mistake when he was hungry.  But if you kept talking, he'd tolerate detours on the way to the bottle.  "There.  All clean and dry and ready to eat.  Let's check the menu.  Oooh.  Formula.  And a very good vintage," he murmured softly as he mixed the powder and water with his free hand, shaking the bottle vigorously and then putting it in the electric bottle warmer.  

They were sharing a suite, as they had many times when on press tour together.  But this one looked like Babies-R-Us had exploded in the common room.  Or more accurately, the much more hipster/organic Green Earth Baby.  Gadgets and supplies and books on “What to Expect in the First Year” were scattered everywhere.  Chris and Zach had both been reading between bottles and diapers and naps.  Yesterday they had gone to Margo’s after they’d spent several hours at baby stores.  Chris wasn’t sure how they were going to get it all back to California, but that was a puzzle for another day.  Margo had offered to let them stay with her, but Zach thought it was better to be able to visit someone who had actually slept all night.  And he didn’t want to get too reliant on his mom.  And Chris was pretty sure that it was also an issue of pride: Chris and Zach had already seen each other at their worst when on tour.  A little baby vomit wasn’t going to change any opinions.  But Zach wanted to look more together for his mom and her friends.

“Here we are, Little Man,” Chris said when the bottle was ready.  They settled in a chair, and Nathan made short business of the meal.  Chris burped the baby, not wanting a repeat of yesterday’s gas pains, and got him settled back in the crook of one arm.

Nathan was looking up at Chris’ face in one of those few and fleeting perfectly content moments: he wasn’t wet, messy, hungry, sleepy, suffering from gas, or overstimulated.  He was just quietly taking in the world.  The books all said talking to babies, as well as looking at them, was really important.  Chris did play with him, but that really seemed to be Zach’s thing.  Chris had been taking video surreptitiously, whether to help Zach remember this time or blackmail him later, he wasn’t sure.

Chris had already developed a different approach.

“So where did we leave off, Little Man?” Chris asked as he reached for a book with his free hand.  “Ah yes.  Here we are: ‘CHAPTER FOUR in which Eeyore loses a tail and Pooh finds one’.”

 

 **  7:30 a.m. **

The smell of coffee and the sound of whirs and clicks roused Chris.  He opened his eyes to daylight and the vision of Zach, shirtless in a pair of jeans, leaning over the bassinet and holding a mug of coffee.  He watched the light play on the muscles of Zach’s back and inhaled sharply. The hissing sound drew Zach's attention.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

“Hmmm,” Chris groaned sleepily.  “Little Man?”

“Still sleeping.  When you’d put him back down?”

“About 6:45.”

“Mmmm,” Zach looked him up and down, tilting his head with a small smirk.  “Want to go back to your room?”

“What?” Chris asked, blinking… because that sounded very much like a proposition.

“I’m good to stay up now, if you want to go catch a few more Z’s.”  

Chris must be really out of it, because he was hearing innuendo everywhere.  He scrubbed his face, willing his sleepy mind to behave itself.

“Nah, just some coffee, maybe.”

Zach smiled and handed him a mug.  “How much did you end up with last night?”

“Nearly five.  You?”

“Five and a half, thanks to you.  Otherwise it would have been threeish.”  Zach picked up the book on the coffee table.  “How much time did you spend in the 100-acre wood?”

Chris grinned.  “About forty minutes.  Kanga and Baby Roo just got to the forest.”

“I can’t believe you’re reading novels to him already.”  And the affection was so clear in Zach’s voice it made Chris’ heart stutter.

“Well,” he said, taking a sip of coffee to cover his fluster, “it’s never too early to get started on the classics.”

They both got cleaned up, tidied the room, changed Nathan when he woke up, fed him, changed him again.  And then _again_ after he spit up.  Then they were nearly to the elevator when they remembered the pacifiers drying by the sink, and went back for those.

“I am never, _ever_ complaining to any parent anywhere when they are late to meet me,” Zach said.

“Our lives _have_ sort of become a ‘Full House’ episode.”

Zach stopped in his tracks.  “Never say that again,” he said, sternly.  “Even if it’s true.”

Chris’ laughter followed him to the elevator.  They made it to Margo’s house only an hour late.

 

**Day 7, 2:45 p.m.**

“Can I get you anything else to eat, Chris?”  Margo had been cooking for them during all their visits and helping them sort through the myriad purchases they had to make: cribs, changing tables, diaper bins, baby carriers — it was dizzying.  Margo was sorting reviews and looking at Consumer Reports and doing things that Zach and he might think of if they were a little less sleep deprived, but were struggling with at the moment.

“No, ma’am.  I’m fine.  Just...maybe some coffee?”

She smiled.  “I heard it was a little rough last night.”

“It wasn’t bad, but Zach isn’t getting enough sleep.”

“It’s so good of you to come out and take care of him.”

"Well, Zach's a good friend.  I'm sure he'd do the same if our situations were reversed."

Margo gave him a look that was more knowing than Chris would prefer as she moved to make a fresh pot of coffee.  He felt exposed.  He had a strange desire to ask Margo what she thought of Miles, but he knew that Zach wouldn't appreciate the interference, and suspected Margo would read more into the question than he'd like.  Besides, the more days that went by without Zach hearing from the guy, the more it seemed irrelevant.

"Don't drink too much caffeine.  You boys should be trying to rest when he sleeps during the day, too," she said with a smile.

"Zach still likes watching him sleep too much for that."  Chris got the coffee mugs down, laughing as Margo tsked her son.  He was already pretty familiar with the kitchen, trying to help when Margo would allow him to.  Zach said it was a good sign: she only accepted help from people she liked; otherwise she treated them like guests and kept them out of the kitchen.  Chris had been allowed to help unload the dishwasher.  Zach said that put him above several cousins.

Chris prepared Zach's coffee the way he liked it and then made his own cup.  He turned to leave the kitchen, but paused in the doorway, watching Zach with Nathan.  He had the baby up against his shoulder, nuzzling his nose in soft downy hair.  Nathan had just finished a bottle and was probably working some gas through his system.  Zach was pacing slowly across the living room, doing this bounce-sway movement that seemed perfectly attuned to some internal rhythm of Nathan's, quieting him almost instantly.  Zach had his mouth by the the baby's ear, softly murmuring some story to him as he rubbed his back.  Chris felt so privileged to see Zach this way.  

"He's really good with him, isn't he?" Margo whispered behind him, watching her son over Chris' shoulder.

Chris nodded.  "He really is.  It's funny how sometimes the best things in our lives are the ones we didn't know we wanted."

"That's the truth." Margo said, giving him a look that bordered on sly.

Chris cleared his throat and moved forward, approaching Zach and holding out the coffee.

"Thanks, man," Zach said as he took the mug.  "Mmm.  That should not taste as good as it does."

Chris hummed, taking a sip and trying not to compare it with Intelligentsia or LAMILL.  "It's like press junket coffee."

"Hot, caffeinated, and manna from heaven," Zach said, nodding.

"How'd he do?" Chris asked, nodding at the bottle.

"One and a half ounces.  He should want more, but he doesn't.  He was fidgeting, but he's better now."

"He feels safe," Chris said, and Zach gave him an odd, open look.  "One of the books I was reading," Chris clarified.  "It said that they're still used to the closeness of the womb, and they get squirrelly when they don't feel safe or get too much stimulation from their surroundings.  He probably likes his face all snuggled in your neck.  He gets to focus on you and ignore the rest of the room."

They talked quietly, comparing notes on baby gear things they'd read, passing the baby around when he was ready for some entertainment again.  Eventually Nathan began to nod off — and Zach was looking a little droopy, too.  Margo placed the baby in a bassinet, turned on Turner Classic Movies — because classic films were the only viewing materials all three of them could agree on — and sat in an armchair to knit.  Zach took one side of the couch, picking up a dog-eared copy of (ironically enough) Dr. Spock, which his mom still had around.  Chris sat beside him and sorted music on his iPad, making several playlists: one for getting Nathan to sleep, one for keeping himself and Zach awake, and one that just contained music that reminded him of this moment in his life.  Mostly with references to babies or sleep.

The movie droned on in the background, and just as Chris began to suspect Margo of orchestrating the most drowsy-inducing environment possible, he felt Zach slump beside him.  He looked over to see the book Zach had been reading precariously perched on his knee and Margo smiling in a self-satisfied way.  He winked at her and took the book to set it on the side table, along with his iPad.  He could watch the movie for a while.

The next thing he knew he was opening his eyes to find Margo standing in front of him setting a note on the coffee table: _Taking Nathan for a walk.  Finish your nap.  Love, Mom._

He looked up at her and nodded weakly, noting Nathan awake and strapped into his stroller behind her.  He closed his eyes and heard her leave.

Zach was now curled up with his legs underneath himself slumped completely against Chris' right side, and it wasn't actually that comfortable.  He twisted toward Zach, pulling his arm up and out of the way, and let them both fall backward so they were lying sideways on the couch.  He carefully placed his bare feet up on the other end of the sofa, holding his breath as Zach also shifted into a more comfortable position nestled between Chris and the sofa-back, his head on Chris' chest.  Chris laid his hands on the armrest over his head and closed his eyes.

"Chris?" came the muffled, sleepy voice against his chest.  Chris grunted, keeping his eyes closed, unsure of how much time had passed.  "Why am I lying on top of you?"

Chris realized that he'd somehow gotten his right arm around Zach's head, and his fingers were laced in his hair.  

"We're napping," he mumbled, hoping they could just ignore any potential awkwardness.

Zach stiffened.  "Where's Nathan?"

"Mmm... y'mom took him out in the stroller.  S'okay.  Go back to sleep."

"You sure?"

"You comfortable?"

There was a pause.  Then a muffled, "Yeah, actually."

"Me, too.  Go back to sleep."

He felt Zach shift slightly, and then relax back into his right side.  Zach's breathing slowly evened out as Chris drifted off again himself.

The next time he woke up, he heard Zach talking softly to his mom in the kitchen.  Chris couldn't make out any words, but there was an urgency to Zach's hushed voice, as if he were explaining something important.  

Chris groaned and stretched, wondering how long he'd slept and how long Zach had been awake.  He padded to the kitchen where Margo beamed at him in greeting and Zach nodded with a slightly flushed, small smile.   He blinked, trying to clear his head of the effects of Zach's blush.

"How's Little Man?" he croaked.

Zach's smile widened.  "He's great.  Hungry after his walk.  Fancy a turn at the bottle?"

"Absolutely."

Later that night, Chris was loading the pictures on his phone to his computer.  They were mostly pictures of Nathan, or Zach and Nathan.  But there was one that he hadn’t taken.  One that could only have been taken by _Margo_ , picking up his phone when she’d returned from her walk.  A picture of tangled limbs and peaceful faces: he and Zach, asleep on the sofa.  What struck him most was his own arms, wound around Zach in a manner that could only be viewed as protective.  And if that’s what his body language was saying when he wasn’t paying attention, it was no wonder Margo was treating him like part of the family.  He just hoped Zach hadn’t noticed, or that he wouldn’t find it too intrusive.  He scrubbed his face, looking at the photo: the way his head was turned into the top of Zach’s, the way his fingers were threaded through his hair, the way his shoulders rounded to cling to more of Zach.  And he realized something.

He was so very, _very_ fucked.

 

** Day 8, 2:14 a.m. **

Chris padded through the common room and knocked on Zach's door.  It opened a moment later to reveal a very haggard Zach and a very unhappy Nathan.

"I'm sorry, he won't quiet down.  None of the usual stuff is working."

"It's okay," he said, rubbing circles on Nathan's back.  "What are you doing, Little Man?  Do you _want_ a pirate for a daddy?" he asked, watching Zach sway on his feet.

"What?" Zach asked.

"Private joke.  Here, let me try.  You lie down before you fall over."

Zach hesitated only a second before shifting the baby so Chris could take him.

"How much did he eat?"

"Two and a half ounces.  And he let out an enormous belch.  You'd have been proud."  Chris rolled his eyes, though he was glad to see that Zach was still capable of making jokes.  "He's dry, he's full, his eyes keep drooping, but he's fighting it."  Zach scrubbed a hand down his face.  "I've tried walking, swinging, playing, reading—"

"A heroic effort.  Little Man, you gotta ease up on your old man.  Now what should we try?" He asked softly near the infant's ear as he propped some pillows up on the side of the bed Zach hadn't been sleeping on.  He reclined, resting the baby on his chest.  "Paul Simon, Frank Sinatra... Oh, I know.  Talking Heads"  

He started singing very softly.  It couldn't really be heard over the sound of the baby's cries, but he just kept it up.  In the muted light coming from the bathroom, Chris could see Zach watching him.  His expression was open and vulnerable, stripped of Zach's hipster armor in a way only sleep deprivation and being with people he really trusted could accomplish.  It was one of Chris' favorite expressions on him.

Chris patted the bed beside him and kept singing softly, rubbing fingers along Nathan's back with his other hand.  Zach climbed under the covers and rolled on his side, facing Chris.  Nathan's cries were quieting as he tried to listen to Chris' voice.

Zach's brows furrowed.  "Is that 'Stay Up Late'?" Zach asked quietly.

Chris nodded, singing _Baby, baby, please let me hold you.  I wanna make you stay up all night._

Zach snorted.  "Isn't he a little young for reverse psychology?"

Chris grinned and shrugged.  He had two shrinks in the family.  He'd grown up on the stuff.  Zach snuggled into his pillow more, and Nathan's cries softened to whimpers between snuffly breaths.

"Thank you."

Chris carded his hand through Zach's hair as a means of saying “you’re welcome” as he continued to sing.  Both of the Quinto men were finally relaxing.

"You're like some magic baby whisperer," Zach mumbled through a yawn.

"You're able to calm him down more often than I am... You both just got too worked up this time."  Chris sang the next verse.  Zach looked thoughtful and opened his mouth to reply just as Nathan let out a huge fart and sighed.  Both adults stifled their laughter.  "Or maybe I'm just a gas whisperer," Chris mumbled before continuing with the song.

Zach grunted.  "That _would_ explain a lot."

Chris tugged Zach's hair in retaliation, and then smoothed it again as Zach hummed in appreciation.  By the time he made it through the song, both Quinto men were asleep.  

Maybe he was a Quinto whisperer.

Chris gently placed the baby in his bassinet at the foot of the bed, pausing to make sure he remained asleep.  He looked one more time at Zach, sleeping peacefully, and then turned to go back to his own cold, dark bed.


	4. Days 9-10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris gets a warning. And ignores it.

 

**Day 9, 2:14 p.m.**

"Sorry, Little Man," Chris said as he reached for the phone before the raucous 'We Are Family' ringtone could wake him up fully.

"Hey, Katie," Chris answered.

"Hey, little brother.  Got a second?"

"If you don't mind me whispering."

He could hear her smile.  "He's right there?"

"Yeah, you want a new picture?"

He was already switching apps and taking a selfie before she could reply.  He sent it and put the phone back to his ear.

"Look at you!  Using the smart features of a smart phone."

"Yeah.  Zach's a terrible influence.  Next thing you know I'll have an Instragram account."

"Right."  There was a small pause, and Chris realized what she was probably calling about.  "So, speaking of pictures..."

Chris let his head fall back with a soft groan.  "Not you, too.  Look, we have to go to the baby stores.  We didn't see any paps, but someone must have had a phone.  Zach is dealing with his publicist as we speak.  I'll tell you what I told him: I don't care what people think about me.  I just didn't like it when they thought he'd been cheating on Miles, because he's hurting enough over how all that went down without random strangers chastising him on social media."

Katie paused, perhaps surprised by Chris' protective diatribe.  "So you're okay with people thinking you're a couple?"

"People have thought we were secretly a couple since the first Trek was released.  Nothing we do—other than very publicly date other people—seems to convince them otherwise.  And neither of us will be doing that for a while."

Silence stretched on the other end.

"What?" Chris asked, irritated.

"Be careful."

"I'm not going to—"

"—He's really vulnerable right now, and I know you, and I know what we were talking about the night you got the call, and why the conversation required enough wine that I had to spend the night."

"Katie—"

"Just, be careful. Of _your_ heart, too."

 _Too late_ , he thought as Zach re-entered the room, smiling at him.

"And Chris?" Katie asked

"Yeah?"

"You need a shave."

He sighed. "I'll put it right at the top of my to-do list."

 

**Day 10, 3:05 a.m.**

Chris startled awake and listened to the darkness.  It was quiet in the suite, but it still felt off.  He turned his head and saw light coming from under the door.  He squinted at the clock.  Huh.  That wasn’t good.

Pulling up his sleep pants, he walked to the door and opened it to find Zach curled in the corner of the sofa, one table lamp illuminating his face as he quickly wiped his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a quick whisper.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Chris said as he came around the sofa to see exactly how much of a mess Zach was.  “I think I woke up because it was too quiet.”

Zach choked out a laugh, still struggling to pull himself together.

“Nathan?”  Chris asked.

“Asleep.”

“But you couldn’t take advantage of that situation.”

Zach shook his head, sniffling.

Chris went over to the mini fridge, pulled out two bottles of beer and opened them.  He was already drinking his as he handed the other to Zach and then flopped down on the sofa.  Zach nodded his thanks and they drank in silence for a minute.

“So, what has you freaking out?” Chris asked.  Because really, it could be any number of things.  Zach had been holding it together pretty well for a man who had just had his entire world turned upside down.  Or maybe Chris had just been missing the signs.

Zach’s head fell back against the cushion as he searched the ceiling for an answer.  He looked at Chris shaking his head.

“How am I going to do this alone, Chris?” he asked.

Chris took a sip of beer, contemplating.  “Who says you have to do it alone?”

“If I go back to New York, I’ll be utterly alone.  In a one bedroom apartment with thin walls and neighbors who will soon hate me.”

Chris snorted.  “Okay, that may be true.  I don’t know about your support system out there other than He Who Must Not Be Named.  But don’t for a second think that’s your only option.  I mean, yeah, this is a lot of change all at once, and you’re a single dad now, which is—”

“—terrifying.”

“And great, but yeah...pretty scary. But you are a single dad _of means_ with two residences, a job you can sort of control, money to get the help you need, and supportive family and friends.  It could be more terrifying.”

Zach looked abashed, and Chris didn’t mean to put him on the defensive.  He reached out to grasp his ankle.  “Hey.  All I’m saying is that you don’t have to do this alone in a one-bedroom apartment in New York.  I can think of several other options.  Do you _need_ to be in New York right now?  For work or something?”

Zach shook his head.  “There will be pickups in a few weeks that I’d need to fly out for, but otherwise, no.  Primary filming is finished, I don’t have any more plays lined up.  So, I’m considering going back to the Silver Lake house.  At least I’d be closer to Joe and…”

“And me,” Chris supplied.

Zach took a deep breath.  “I didn’t want to presume.”

“Zach,” Chris groaned, shaking his friend’s leg.  “I’m the uncle-in-arms, remember.”

Zach snorted ruefully.  “I think what you’ve been doing goes beyond uncle duties, or brothers-in-arms duties, and looks suspiciously like co-parenting.  That can’t be what you were signing up for when you hopped a plane to Pittsburgh.”

“Actually, it pretty much was.” Chris took another sip of beer and then contemplated the label, picking at the edge with his fingernail.  “Have you ever talked to Cho about parenting?”

Zach shook his head.

“You should, he’s really funny, and he’s a great dad.  But relatable.  He calls the first twelve weeks ‘The Period of Despair’, because they need so much, you’re constantly sleep deprived, and they just take, take, take and don’t give anything back.  They just look at you like you’re an alien.”

“That… feels really accurate.  Not that I’m not absolutely crazy about him, because I am!  Completely!  But it’s so…”

“Completely overwhelming?”

“Yeah,” Zach laughed.  “That.  The only reason I’m surviving at all is because you’re here doing half the work.  I thought we’d be able to just hole up in a little bubble for the two weeks you took off to help and I would get used to it.  But we’re halfway through that, and I’m realizing that if I’m going to do this alone, I need to prepare.  Which means we can’t just stay here.  I need to get the house ready and baby proof and stock up on everything so if I can’t leave the house for a week because I’ve only gotten two hours of sleep we won’t starve.  And I can barely talk in the mornings.  How am I supposed to work?  We _will_ starve.”

Chris was laughing.  “You won’t starve.  And I don’t think you need to baby proof yet; he won’t be crawling for a while.  And I’m not going to cut you off after two weeks; I just have to be back in California so I can go to the meetings I’ve been blowing off.  But it’s not like I won’t be around.  It’s not like you won’t have anyone around.”

“At three in the morning?”

Chris took another sip of beer.  “Okay, I’m just going to throw out some suggestions, and you think about them, or try to visualize how they would work.  Option one: live-in nanny.”  Preferably female.  “You have a spare room you could set up, and though they probably have really strict rules on hours worked and such, I bet for infants there could be allowances made.”

Zach stared off into space for a moment, obviously considering it.  “I don’t really like the idea of a stranger taking care of him.  Or living in my house.  Though I guess it would help relieve some of the pressure and allow me to work.”

“I think you’re going to need to find some sort of day care so you can work.  So a daytime nanny is probably a must, unless you’re just going to take a year off.  A live-in would possibly help at night if you gave some days off or something.”

Zach thought a bit longer.  “Okay.  I don’t love it, but I’ll think about it.  Though… how quickly can you get one?  I mean, wouldn’t I have to interview people and check references?  How do you even advertise for that?  It could take weeks.  Plus, I’d have one more room to get ready.”

“I think there are services who screen a pool of people, but you’d still need to interview the applicants for your job.  So that might take too long for immediate relief.  Okay, Option two: see if your mom can come out for a while.”

“No,” Zach said firmly, shaking his head.  “She’s been great, and I love her, but no.  She can visit, but I don’t want her getting up in the middle of the night or seeing me get up in the middle of the night.”

“Joe?”

Zach shook his head.  “He won’t even be in the country for another week.  And then he has to get the proofs from the Italy shoot turned around in two weeks or something.  He wanted to drop everything and come home when he heard what had happened, but he would have lost the job, and he worked so hard to get it.  So I told him to stay—he can meet Nathan when he gets back.  Plus, he doesn’t really love kids: he had to photograph too many of them when he was getting started.”

Chris chuckled and took another swig of beer.  “Last option: the two of you come stay with me for a while.  That will give you some backup while you get your house ready, plus the gate will keep the paps from harassing you.  Then you can take your time finding a nanny or whatever the long-term solution is going to be.”

Zach stared at him for a moment.  “Chris, you… you don’t want to do that.  I mean, it’s really sweet of you, and _really_ tempting.  But I can’t let you put your whole life on hold for us.  That’s… I just can’t take advantage of our friendship like that.  As perfect as it seems.”

“Hmmm.” Chris looked up at the ceiling, remembering.  “I’m thinking of — what was it, September 2009? When we got back from the press junket for the first Trek.  We’d been living in each other’s pockets for what felt like a year, with filming and everything.  But we’d _really_ been inseparable during the international press stuff.  And then we came home, and barely saw each other for weeks.”

“Until you started inviting yourself over to my house for movie night,” Zach offered, smiling.

“Exactly.  Because I _missed_ living in your back pocket, even though on the flight home from Tokyo I thought I just wanted to be completely alone for a year.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’d miss this?” Zach asked, waving his beer bottle at the baby detritus covering every surface of the room.

“Yeah.  I really would.  I mean, I see what you’re saying about not wanting to take advantage.  But look at it from the other side.  I have no idea if I’ll ever have kids.  Certainly no one I’ve dated in the last five years has had any interest in that.  They’ve mostly been caught up in the exciting life they thought I could supply.”

“Do you want to have kids?” Zach asked, obviously sincerely curious.

“I’ve never really considered it — not seriously.  I mean, I’ve been so focused on my career for so long that any thought of kids was definitely for the future.  But then all my relationships fell apart, and now I have grey in my beard.  And I know it’s not too late,” he said, waving off Zach’s near interruption.  “My point is: I don’t know if it will ever happen.  It might, but it could easily not.  So getting to be here and experience Nathan’s first weeks with you — it’s been so amazing.  I will seriously cherish this, Zach, however long it lasts.  So yeah, another month together while you get things sorted in your home in California?  I’m on board.  Babysitting so you have some sanity after your house is set up?  Still on board.  You’re my..."  Chris struggled for a word that captured it.  "My best friend," he settled on.  "One of my favorite people in the world.  And I’m having a blast.  A sleep deprived, baby-vomit-infused blast. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.  And I’ll definitely go through withdrawal if you cut me off.  Then I’ll start inviting myself over, bringing applesauce and Disney movies—”

Zach was finally, genuinely laughing, and the panicked, desperate glint had left his eyes.  And Chris loved that he had the power to do that.  “Are you even real?” Zach asked.

“Last I checked.  And a real pain in the ass at times, as you well know.”

Zach huffed a laugh and took another thoughtful sip of his beer.  “You realize this will do nothing to help the rumors that we’re a couple.  You won’t get a proper date for months.”

Chris shrugged.  “So nothing will change compared to the last six months.  I’m fine with that."  Zach tilted his head, studying Chris, lips lingering on the bottle in way way that should not elicit any responses from Chris, but did.  "Are we on?  Or do you need to think about it?”

Zach bit his lip, and something in Chris twisted nervously.  Zach was looking at him like he could see through him or into him.  And Chris wasn't sure how bad it would really be if he saw too much.  If he saw the precipice Chris was on — not quite of intent, but of daring.   Something changed in Zach's face, and his eye lit with something approaching humor or challenge.  “We’re on.  We’re definitely on.  To a month at Chez Pine,” he said raising his bottle.

Chris grinned broadly and clinked their drinks together.  “And to 3 a.m. bottles, of whatever variety.”


	5. Day 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's nobody's damned business...

Chris ran his hands over his hair one last time, making sure it was in place.  His face was shaved, his shirt was clean: no baby vomit anywhere. He checked the mirror one last time.  Through the closed bathroom door he could hear the happy sounds of his new if temporary life: the click of dog paws, the whimpering of a baby, and Zach's low, soft voice as he moved around the living room.  The house felt full, not in an obtrusive, exhausting way, like a party.  Just full of life, in a way he hadn’t even realized was lacking before.  And he knew that when Zach moved out — taking the dogs and the baby with him — the silence wouldn't feel restorative, like it always had; his house would be riddled with echoes.

"You’re going to be late,” came Zach’s call from the kitchen.

Chris grabbed his wallet off the nightstand and opened the bedroom door, dodging the dogs to avoid getting dog hair on his slacks.

“Looking good, Pine,” Zach said, handing him a stainless steel travel mug of fresh coffee and a bagel with organic hand-ground peanut butter.  Chris would rather have Jif, but his chest warmed at the sentiment.  It was true he needed protein in the morning, and very few options could be eaten in the car.  “Except — honestly, do I need teach you how to wear a necktie?”  Zach smoothed the tie with one hand while cradling the baby with the other.  “It’ll have to do; Nathan’ll cry if I set him down.”

Chris rolled his eyes.  “It’s fine.  You’re such a tie-snob.”

“Hmmm.”  Zach looked him up and down once more, and Chris felt his face heat.  “Wow.  Pressed and clean and free of baby-vomit.  I can almost remember what it’s like.”

Chris took a sip and shrugged.  “I’ll be home by two.  Then it’s your turn to face the world in clean clothes and my turn to soak in Eau de Formula.  What time do the interviews start?”

“Three at my old place. I still think you should come.”

Chris shook his head.  "Do the first round without us," he said.  "You need to be really comfortable with this person.  Then we'll see if Nathan likes them.  And it'll give Little Man and me a chance to read.  Take whatever time you need."

Zach leaned against the counter close enough to bump shoulders with Chris.  “Okay.  You'd better go.  Traffic is bad, it sounds like."

"I'll cut through the neighborhood and get on the freeway past the lake.  It'll be fine.  Thanks for breakfast."

Zach grinned, and Chris stamped down the urge to kiss him goodbye as he moved to the door.  They were ridiculously comfortable and domestic together, more so than he'd ever been with a girlfriend who'd moved in.  It was a cruel joke.

The drive downtown was tedious, but did offer time to think.  Which was always dangerous these days: Chris was so torn between what he wanted and what Zach needed.  

Because what he wanted seemed so close, he could taste it.  All he wanted was the chance to _not_ stomp down the urge to kiss Zach goodbye.  To sing Nathan to sleep and then return to a warm bed rather than retreat to a cold one.  To curl against Zach under the covers with nothing between them and... He wasn't even sure, but he _wanted_ it.  So much sometimes he woke from a dream to the sound of Zach's voice cooing Narhan somewhere in the house and he forgot for a moment that it wasn't true.  That Zach wasn't his partner.  Nathan wasn't his son.  And for all times he mocked Miles for playing house with Zach, here he was, doing it to such an extent he was even fooling his subconscious.  

If Miles had any decent sense of humor he'd be laughing his ass off.  Because irony was a _bitch_.

Chris got off the freeway, turning toward a trendy neighborhood where film execs took three hour lunches.  His destination was a little Italian bistro that you couldn’t get out of for less than $200 per person.  

What Zach needed, on the other hand, was support and time to get over Miles.  And it wasn’t going well, from what Chris could hear through the thinner-than-he’d-realized walls.  The phone call had been brutal.  Chris had obviously only heard part of Zach’s half of the conversation, but from what he could tell, Miles had bought into the idea that Zach had been cheating on him with Chris for… who knows how long.  And if that were all, he’d help Zach blow off some steam and drink and curse the little twink.  And maybe, _maybe_ , give truth to the lie.

But that night he’d heard the muffled sobs through the wall.  And again a few nights after that.  And they weren’t Nathan’s.  He'd actually considered knocking on the door, but if Zach had wanted his pain known, he'd have been in the living room again, not holed up in his bedroom crying in the middle of the night.  Zach had been handling everything with so much dignity; Chris wasn't about to trespass when Zach wanted privacy.  

So he wasn't going to push himself on Zach when he was hurting.  Because that would be a dick move and would backfire anyway.  As much as he hated the idea of Zach and Nathan moving out, that was exactly what he was (halfheartedly) helping Zach prepare to do: interviewing nannies, looking at paint and hardwood floor samples as Zach renovated after the last set of renters, helping pick baby furniture that would never enter his home.

Chris arrived and left the car with a valet.  He was a few minutes early and checked his phone briefly while waiting.  His head had been so wrapped up in Zach and Nathan the last month, it was hard to think of acting or roles or anything relating to the business, but this role had stood out.  So he was trying to clear his head and psyche himself up for the meeting, reminding himself of the questions he had about the script and casting and production choices.

The suits arrived and everyone was introduced and seated.  They began discussing the script, and Chris was making connections between his character's arc and aspects of other literary characters, from Ulysses to Fitzwilliam Darcy.  Everything was going well.  Most of the suits even seemed to be following what he was saying and looking impressed with his analysis, as if they were unaware that he'd been an English major.  He felt like he was on a roll, really clicking with the team and relishing the challenge of character and plot analysis — something he was good at and enjoyed — until the oldest and greyest of the group leaned forward and said, "Of course we'll need you to make a public statement on your current living arrangement."

Chris blinked.  "I beg your pardon?"

"Just to reassure the fans that you're helping out a platonic friend, not embarking on a romantic relationship."

Chris leaned back, eyes narrowing.  "I don't see how that's anybody's business."

"So you are?"

Chris crossed his arms.  "Are we going to talk about everybody's sex life?"  The man blanched, and Chris should stop, he really should, but the implication that he should be ashamed of Zach and Nathan and his role in their lives — whatever that may be — was more than he could take.  "I could empty this champagne bottle and we could spin it in the middle of the table to see who gets to go next.  I haven't done anything like that since I was — oh _twelve_ — but I think I remember how it works."

Faces were turning red all around the table, and Chris was pretty sure it was from anger and discomfort, not the embarrassment that should have accompanied such an inappropriate request.  But the exec from Dreamworks was biting back a grin and stifling laughter.  Chris wasn't sure anyone else had noticed.  Another man, sitting next to the grey one who asked the initial question, said, "You have to understand, Chris, fans of this type of movie don't want to think about the star—"

"Just stop," Chris said, holding his hand up.  The anger was pretty much already drained out of him, and he just felt tired.  More tired than he'd felt after weeks of 3 a.m. feedings and five hours of sleep.  Which was telling, really.  He scrubbed a hand over his face.  "Look, I've long since outgrown my willingness to let strangers dictate whom I can date or be seen with in public. So if you're expecting that sort of control, I'm not your guy.  I like this role, and I think I'd do a good job with it.  But it's not worth trying to distance myself from an important friend.  So I'm sorry we've wasted each other's time, but I think we're done here."

Shock and then bluster registered in the faces across the table.  "Mr. Pine," said the grey one, "if you leave this restaurant now, we're going to offer the role to Garrett Hedlund."

Chris looked at the ceiling, thinking.  "He's a bit young for the part, and he'd probably do it differently than I would.  But he's a good actor."  Chris looked the man squarely in the eyes.  "Wish him luck from me."

"Do you have a picture?" the rep from Dreamworks asked as Chris started to rise.

"I'm sorry?"

"The child.  Do you have a picture?"

Chris fished his phone from his pocket, navigated to a picture of Zach holding the baby up near his face, and handed it to the man.  Mr. Evans, was it?

"Handsome," he replied, studying the photo, and Chris noticed he didn't specify whether he meant Zach or the baby.  "What's his name?"

"Nathan John Quinto," Chris said, pretty sure some pride was seeping through his voice.  Let them make of that what they would.  "He's still working on his Quinto eyebrows."

The man smiled, handing back the phone.  "It was very interesting meeting you, Mr. Pine."

Chris snorted and pocketed the phone.  "Likewise," he said with a small wave to the group.  "Good luck with the project, gentlemen."

He was halfway home when his agent called.  He pressed the button for hands-free phone, dreading the conversation, but wanting it over with.

"What happened?" she asked, though the tone was more _what did you do?_

"They wanted me to make a public statement that Zach and I are ‘just friends’.”

"Isn't that true?"

"Not the point.  And what if it weren't?  I'm not giving them that sort of hold on me.  It's none of their god damned business what—"

"Okay, okay," she said, as if he were giving her a headache.  "Well, whatever you said didn't put them off completely.  They'd like you to reconsider.  They also say that they are somewhat flexible on the wording of the statement."  That sounded like more trouble than it was worth.  "I also received a separate email from a Mr. Evans, saying he has two other scripts he'd like to send you, and that he'd enjoy working with an actor with such 'backbone and integrity', whatever that means."

Huh.  That was interesting.  "Let him know I'd love to read them.  And tell the others I'm still interested, but my private life is private.  Just like theirs."

She sighed, and he could hear her keyboard clacking in the background.  "Are you going to explain to me what's going on at some point?"

He changed lanes and and ran his hand through his hair.  "Karen, as soon as I know, you'll be the fifth or sixth person I tell."

She snorted softly, and he could hear the whoosh of an email being sent.  She was the ultimate multitasker.  "At least I'm in the single digits."

He laughed and ended the call.


	6. Day 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> '...Won't you lay your body down?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might come in handy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qiMIAoZNce8

"Come on, Little Man, it's not so bad in there," Chris said as he strapped the full, dry, sleepy baby into a bouncy chair on the floor.  "I'll even sing you your favorite song, but I need my hands free, and I need you to sleep so I can help your daddy."

Chris turned the vibration control on and laughed as Nathan’s eyes widened in response and his little forehead crinkled in surprise.  In the month since he’d met Nathan, he’d transformed from a squishy red-faced newborn with Zach’s hair to an individual with recognizable expressions and maybe preferences.  For instance, Nathan loved the vibration setting on this chair, but the music made him cry.  Which Chris took to prove his excellent taste.  His skin was pale now, like Zach’s, and his eyelashes seemed to be getting longer by the day, though it was hard to notice such changes when Chris saw him everyday.  His eyes, however, had stayed stubbornly blue.  And they were moist with cries on the cusps of his lungs.

“I have a surprise for you,” Chris said, reaching for the case under the sofa, and jostling the chair to keep Nathan interested and to stave off the crying.  “Now we’ve never tried this, and you might not like it, but I needed practice so I taught myself one of our songs, just for a change of pace.” He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Nathan’s chair and made sure the guitar was still in tune.  Nathan’s head jerked as he tried to focus on the sound of Chris’ chords.  “Do you recognize it yet?  No?  Here, try this.” He changed to the accompaniment, fingering the strings lightly. “How about now?”  The baby was listening and snuffling, fighting against droopy lids.  Chris played the intro again and started with the lyrics.  “ _Hey, little sleepy boy do you know what time it is?  Well, the hour of your bedtime’s long been past.  And though I know you're fighting it, I can tell when you rub your eyes you're fading fast.  Fading fast._ ”

Per the lyrics, he sang it through three times before Nathan finally closed his eyes and settled his arms above his shoulders.  He continued to play softly, just to be sure the baby was asleep for good, when he noticed Zach leaning against the wall, watching him with an expression he couldn’t interpret.  He raised his eyebrows as a vague question, but Zach just shook his head slightly and came forward.

“I haven’t heard you play in a long time,” he said softly.

He smiled, looking down at Nathan.  “Well, we’ve had our hands full.  But we’re starting to hit a stride now.  I’ve been finding time to play again.”  He looked back up at Zach.  “How’s it going?  Can I help?”

Zach bit his lip.  “I’m almost done, but would you mind checking his bags again?  I’m terrified I’m forgetting something major, like diapers or extra pacifiers or the bottle warmer.  I’m bringing the other snuggly — the one that he likes less but I can wear longer, in case he insists on me carrying him everywhere.”

“You’ll have Sasha, right?”

“Yeah, but she’s still mostly untested with him.  I mean, she seems great, but I’m still worried this isn’t going to work.  Maybe I should try to pack that bouncy seat in another suitcase.  Or you.  Maybe I could get you in a suitcase.”

Chris snorted, putting the guitar away.  “There’s no way I’d be able to squeeze into a suitcase.”

“You’ve been doing more yoga lately.  It’s showing.  You probably could.”

Chris colored slightly that Zach had been noticing his increased flexibility.  He held out a hand and Zach took it, pulling him up.  “You know I’d go if I could,” he said quietly.

“Chris, that’s not… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.  We both have work, and it’s time I learned to cope on my own.  I’m just terrified it’s not going to go well.”

Chris squeezed Zach’s shoulder, trying to comfort without just pulling him into his arms.  “Well, _I_ think you’ll do great.  And you’ll have Sasha for back up.  And it’s only five days, and then you’ll be home.  I mean here… you’ll be back here.”

Zach smiled ruefully.  “I really did think the house would be ready by now.  Sorry.”

Chris waved it off.  “You didn’t know they’d find mold when they opened up the floors.  Best to get it all taken care of at once than risk Little Man’s lungs.  Besides, you know I love having you both here.  I really don’t mind the delay.  Now, let’s get you packed so we can relax before your bedtime.  The direct to New York leaves early, right?”

“Nine.  The car will come for us at six.”

Chris nodded.  “Well, you finish up, and I’ll check Nathan’s bags, and maybe we’ll have time for a movie before you need to sleep.”

Chris double-checked the contents of Nathan’s bags, adding a few things but for the most part finding them completely overpacked for a 5-day trip.  Still, better to be prepared.  He closed them up and piled them beside the door, and then transferred the baby to his bassinet in the half of his office they’d sort of turned into the nursery — though Nathan tended to sleep anywhere in the house.  He tidied the living room as Zach passed between rooms, collecting his own things, and then collected two beers from the kitchen.  He chose three blu ray disks from the library and set them on the table for Zach to choose among, and then sat crosslegged on the sofa and picked up one of the new scripts he’d been sent by Mr. Evans.  A few minutes later, Zach plopped down next to him, took a sip of beer, and snorted when he saw the films.

“I told you before, we’re not watching _Three Men and a Baby_.”

“But it’s educational.”

Zach shook his head, genuinely laughing.  “Asshole,” he said, bumping Chris’ shoulder. “No.”

“Leonard directed it.”

“Leonard...DiCaprio?”

Chris snorted.  “Yeah, when he was thirteen.  And he’s got an 'o' at the end of his name.  No. Leonard.   _Your_ Leonard.  Spock Prime.”

“He did _not_.”Chris handed him the blu ray package.  “Fuck.  Now we _have_ to watch it.  But not tonight. I can’t handle Steve Guttenberg tonight.”

“Fine.  But if we don’t know how to hide the heroin in the baby formula can, it’s your fault.”

“Put on _Amelie_.  I love the cinematography in that one, and we can keep talking since we won’t be listening to the French anyway.”

“Speak for yourself,” Chris said, getting up to load the disk.  “My French is excellent.”  But he was happy with that choice.  Interesting, but not too heavy.  He sat back down next to Zach, shoulder to shoulder.  And they were comfortable now with this sort of contact.  They always had been handsy with each other, but after a month of living together, these shoulder bumps and full body leans had become a way of showing camaraderie in the face of sleep deprivation and the tyranny of infant schedules and whims.  Zach was flipping through the script.

“What’s this?  Is this a new one?”

Chris nodded, taking another sip of beer.

“What happened to the other one?  You said they were getting back to you.”

Chris shrugged.  “They wanted things in the contract I couldn’t give them.”  He’d been really vague when Zach had asked him how that meeting had gone, not sure how he would react to Chris turning down a role for him.  

“They were already discussing contracts?”

“Not quite, but with the sorts of questions they were asking, I could tell it was going to be a nightmare.  But one of the execs sent me these, and they’re good, too.” Chris shrugged, taking another sip of beer.  Zach was eyeing him sideways, like he was trying to figure out what Chris wasn’t saying.  “So three days of shooting pick-ups?” Chris asked, trying to change the subject.

Zach nodded, sipping his beer.  “Yeah, one on location and two on a sound stage.  Just filling scenes, and one retake that he wasn’t happy with, despite having ten versions.  But they’re all short.  If it goes well, we might be done in two days.”  Zach settled back into the sofa, leaning a bit more heavily on Chris.  “It’s going to be weird revisiting that character.  I’m in a completely different headspace than I was when we finished shooting.  Gordon’s actually going to let me look at some of the footage to make sure I match my old mannerisms.”

“That should help.”

“Yeah.” They were both still watching the film, but Chris could sense their focus shift to each other, and he was suddenly acutely aware of every place their bodies lined up and touched, the way Zach turned his head slightly toward Chris as he talked, the way he lowered his voice, like he was telling Chris secrets.  “It’ll be weird being in the apartment again,” Zach mused.  “Though I suppose it will help me decide whether to keep it.”  

Chris wondered how full of ghosts that apartment was.  How much it would hurt Zach to return to a place where he’d been happy with Miles, where he’d been when everything fell apart for the best of reasons, and where he hadn’t returned since the breakup.

“This is my favorite part,” Zach said, leaning his head against Chris’ shoulder — and it wasn’t entirely clear whether he was referring to the film or the closeness they were currently sharing.  These touches were becoming maddening: platonic on the surface, but so close to something more.  Zach seemed to be initiating them more and more — Chris was almost sure he wasn’t imagining it or projecting it.  

“I know,” Chris answered, wrapping his arm around Zach’s shoulders, relishing the feeling of Zach settling into his side.  The scene unfolded perfectly on the screen.  It really was art.  They watched quietly, Chris aware that this felt different, but unsure of exactly why.  Were they both just feeling clingy because Zach was leaving in the morning, or was there an actual shift happening in their relationship?  Zach yawned, and Chris twisted and tugged on Zach until they were both lying sideways on the sofa, with Zach stretched out along his side, resting his head on Chris’ chest.  “Okay?” he asked, trying to decide where to put his hands.

“Mmmm,” Zach assented, curling a hand on Chris chest and humming again as Chris threaded his fingers through his hair.  

Chris tried to resist stroking Zach’s hair — despite how soft it was — or holding him tighter.  He tried to memorize this feeling, knowing it would be the last time he’d feel this close to Zach for a week.  He tried not to read too much into it, but it was hard when Zach seemed to snuggle into him and sigh.  It was hard also not to notice the anticipation in his body.  He wasn’t hard, but all his nerves seemed to be on alert, and he knew with the slightest provocation this could change from platonic care to very serious lust.  He could only hope Zach wouldn’t be freaked out.

“Chris?”  Zach’s voice rumbled against his chest, derailing Chris’ thoughts and definitely tipping his body’s reactions toward interest.

Chris swallowed thickly.  “Hmmm?”

“I heard that you wanted to play spin the champagne bottle at that meeting last week.”

Chris froze, and Zach raised his head to look at him.  His face was hovering above him, so close.

“It wasn’t exactly spin-the-bottle.  I didn’t want to kiss any of them.”  Chris was careful not to put any emphasis on the last word, but Zach’s gaze still dropped momentarily to his mouth.

Zach bit his lip.  “I heard.”

“How did you hear?”  Chris realized his fingers were still buried in Zach’s hair.  With the slightest bit of pressure, he could nudge Zach closer.  He felt unsure of what was happening.

“There are little birds all over this town,” he said enigmatically.  When Chris shook his head he added,  “A friend of Kristen’s was sitting nearby.  Kristen told me yesterday.”

“Oh.”  Chris wasn’t exactly sure what more Zach wanted to know, but he could feel Zach study him.  “It’s just… It’s not up to them to tell us what we mean to each other.”  

Zach searched his face.  “Yeah,”  he said, biting his lip again.  His eyes were bright, but wary.  “Sorry it cost you the role.”

Chris shrugged, smiling.  “You and Nathan are more important than a role, Zach.  There are other roles.  And that team was going to be trouble.”  

They both just looked at each other for a moment, balancing on some precipice.  Zach's eyes lowered again to Chris' lips; his eyelashes looked impossibly long from this angle.  Chris's fingers twinged in Zach's hair, and Zach raised his gaze to meet Chris', eyes bright. opened his mouth to respond — and a cry started in the office.  Zach groaned and dropped his forehead on Chris’ chest.  And Chris was laughing hard enough that his chest jostled Zach’s head, which made them both laugh harder.   

Chris leaned forward, brushing his face against Zach’s hair in a way that probably felt like a kiss, and disentangled his fingers from Zach’s hair.  “I’ll make the bottle if you change the diaper.”

Zach laughed against his chest.  “Deal.”

A half an hour later, Nathan was dry and fed, _Amelie_ was over, and whatever moment Chris and Zach had shared on the sofa was lost to Zach’s exhaustion and anxiety over the trip.  Chris sent him to a bed with a hug that may have lingered just an extra moment.

Seven hours later, Zach and Nathan were on the way to the airport, and Chris was sipping coffee as he paced around a hollow house.


	7. Day 38

Chris' phone vibrated in his pocket, and he stole a look.

"It's Zach," he said, looking across the table covered in pastries and coffee mugs.

"Well, you'd better take it," Katie said with a wink.  She took another sip of coffee as Chris pushed away from the table, taking several steps along the sidewalk before accepting the call.

He promptly moved the phone away from his ear.  Nathan, it would seem, was the one calling.  And trying to be heard without a phone.  "Zach?"

"See, I told you he's still on the planet," he heard Zach say through the chaos.  Then a more directly into the phone, "Chris, can you talk to him for a minute?  He thinks I'm hiding you from him."

"What?"

"Just... Could you try?  I'll hold the phone to his ear."  The cries got louder.

Chris stuffed a hand in his pocket and looked down, the way he would if he were holding Nathan and talking to him.  "Little Man... Little Man... what are you doing to your poor daddy?  Are you turning him into a pirate again?  Now we've talked about that.  We don't want him staggering around, talking incoherently.  It's not a good look on him."  Well, it was, actually.  It was fucking adorable.  But he couldn't say that.  Nathan's cries were softening, encouraging Chris to continue.  "Hey, how's The Big Apple?  Have you found Sesame Street yet?  I think it's in Brooklyn somewhere.  Just look for a big yellow bird with legs even longer than Daddy's and a big furry elephant.  You can't miss it.  And don't let Daddy take you to a Yankees game.  We're Dodgers fans.  This is very important.  We don't suppo—"

"He took the pacifier, and he's half asleep."  Zach sounded half giddy with relief.  "What are you telling him?"

"Uh, baseball fan rules."

"No wonder he's conked out," Zach laughed, seeming slightly manic.  "Well, good to know your title as magic baby whisperer is intact.”

"What was that all about?  Where's Sasha?"

"She's getting lunch for us.  But it doesn't matter, because Nathan has decided he hates Sasha."

"What?" Chris asked.

"Well, 'hate' might be the wrong word.  It's more a deep and profound loathing."

" _Loathing_.  Wow.  Who knew he had it in him."

"I know, right?  It was a surprise to everyone.  He will _literally_ let anyone else hold him.  But not her.  Because I'm paying her."  Chris started laughing.

"And today he decided he'd had enough.  He's been looking for you all morning. The books say it isn't developmentally possible yet, but I know what I just witnessed.  I even downloaded ‘There Goes Rhymin' Simon’ so I could play that song you sing him, and he could completely tell the difference.  He was not amused."

But Chris was.  "Oh, god, I'm so sorry," he said chuckling.  "So, has filming been a disaster?  When we talked last night you said things were okay."

Zach sighed, and Chris could hear him shifting.  "Actually, filming is fine.  The team here has been great; everyone seems really happy to hold him and entertain him.  And he was an angel until today.  So we aren't as far ahead as we were last night, but we'll still probably be done by late morning tomorrow."  A truck went by and Zach paused.  "Where are you?  Are you somewhere you can talk?"

"Uh, standing on a sidewalk outside LAMILL.  So, no, not really.  And I'm pretty sure I saw someone take a picture of me as I was talking to Nathan with some ridiculous expression on my face.  So, look for that at an Internet near you.  Plus, Katie is eating all of my scone."

"Oh, god.  I'm sorry," Zach said laughing.  "I'll buy you all the scones you want this weekend.  They’ll need me back on set soon anyway.  Um, what about this afternoon?  Like fourish your time?"

Chris considered a moment.  "No, I'm meeting that Mr. Evans for an early dinner meeting.  I can call from the commute into the city..."

"Let's try that."

"You sure everything's okay?"  Zach didn't usually schedule their next call.

"Yeah.  I just want to ask you about something.  It's not a big deal.  I may have a... a meeting coming up.  And I’m not entirely sure what to make of it, or — I don’t know.  I have mixed feelings, I guess.  It's no big deal. I'd just like to talk to you about it.  I miss you... not just your magic baby whisperer abilities."

Chris smiled at the ground, aware that anyone watching would see a goofy expression.  "Yeah.  Me, too.   The house is unnervingly quiet, and I'm caught up on laundry."

Zach laughed.  "I didn't realize 'caught up' and 'laundry' could be in the same sentence."  There was some noise in the distance, and then, "They need me on set.  And I haven't eaten yet, so I need to go.  Hey, did Cho ever say how the 'Period of Despair' ends?  Because I could really use that goal line."

Chris' lips twitched.  "At twelve weeks, most babies start smiling at their parents."

"Ah.  Yup.  That would probably do it."  

They said their goodbyes and Chris returned to the table a minute later.  Katie raised her eyebrows expectantly.  

"He needed help settling Nathan," he said as he sat. "And he misses me and wants to talk about something later tonight."

"Well, that's encouraging," she said.  "Do you think think he wants to talk about the almost-kiss?"

"No, I don't think so.  And I don’t know if it was an almost-kiss.  I mean, it _felt_ like an almost-kiss to me, but maybe he didn’t see it that way.  But that… that would be an in person conversation I think.  He said he wanted to bounce something off me about a meeting.  He knows I’ll be calling from the car.  It won’t be…”

“Intimate?” Katie asked knowingly.  “Like snuggling together on a sofa with him leaning over you whispering secrets?”

“Hush, you,” he said, looking around to make sure no one had heard her.  

She studied him a long moment, and then pushed his scone toward him.  "Eat up," she said.

"Why?" he asked, breaking off a piece and putting it in his mouth.

"Because we're going to take a walk around the lake.  I want to be able to talk to you without worrying about being overheard.  Plus, it's a beautiful day."

Soon they were strolling leisurely around the lake path, and despite the cyclists and runners, it really did feel like they had more privacy.

“So," Katie started, "if it was an almost-kiss.  What then?”

“We’ll see, I guess.  We’ll see when he gets home. In some ways it seems too soon.  I mean, he was happily in love with Miles just five weeks ago, and he was pretty torn up for a while afterwards.  I don't want to mess up our friendship by telling him my feelings have evolved before he's ready for something else."

"That's true," she said, taking another sip of coffee as she walked.  "But it's also true that there's been something between you two for years, and the last five weeks have been intense and life altering.  That might facilitate the expression of emotions and preferences you might not have been comfortable acknowledging before."

Chris grimaced.  "You sound like a shrink."

"I am a shrink," she said with a smirk.  "So what you have to ask yourself is this: Do you want a romantic relationship with Zach, understanding what that means physically?  Because it would be best if you faced some of your old demons before he gets too involved.  He can help you face them, assuming he cares as much for you as it seems and he's willing, but you'll have to do the heavy lifting.  Are you ready for that?  Because Zach seems like a passionate guy, and once he knows how you feel, and assuming he reciprocates, you're going to find yourself in the deep end of the pool pretty quickly.  If you're not ready, you should keep your hands and lips to yourself."

"This is a really weird thing to talk to my sister about."

"It's just part of life.  It's only strange if you make it that way."

They walked in silence for a while as Chris considered.

"I guess the things I'm worried about fall into three categories.  One, what if he doesn't reciprocate?  Am I screwing up a good thing?"

"That's a danger in any new relationship.  What makes this different?"

"I don't know.  I guess I've never tried to date someone I was already such good friends with.  I've never felt like I had this much to lose."

Katie hummed thoughtfully.  "Well, suppose for a moment that he doesn't reciprocate, what's the worst case scenario?  Would you lose the friendship?"

"No," he said quickly.  "I don't know what I'd have to do to lose Zach's friendship, but it wouldn't be admitting attraction.  Things would be awkward for a while, but we'd survive."

"So, a concern, but not a high-risk one."

They wove to the right as  a cyclist approached, stopping for a moment in the shade of a willow tree.  

"And two?" Katie asked as they continued around the lake.

"Two.  I've never shied away from my attraction to men, but I've never really embraced it openly, either.  And this would get blown wide open.  So that has the potential to change a lot of other relationships.  Of course, everyone important already loves Zach—"

"Stop right there. 'Everyone important already loves Zach.'  Is there anything else that needs to be said?"

Chris smiled.  "Just that it felt really good to tell those film execs that Zach was more important than they were."

"So that covers the unimportant people.  And owning your life always feels better than denying it."

"'To thine own self be true.'"

"That's right, Mr. English-Major; the Bard was an insightful man.  That advice holds up four hundred years later."

"Mom and Dad..."

"What about them?"

“I’m not sure how they’ll react.”

She snorted.  “Chris, Mom and Dad have actually noticed that you’ve been living with him for a month.”

“As a friend.”

“They don’t know that.  They know that you’re helping raise his son and that he and Nathan came to a family dinner two weeks ago.”

“Oh.”  They continued walking, letting another cyclist pass them before crossing to a footpath closer to the lake.  “So they think…”

“Everyone important already loves Zach.”

“So if I don’t start a relationship, and he moves back into his house, will they think we broke up?”

“Chris, I’m sure they’ll believe whatever you tell them.  The point is that they thought you were perhaps involved at the last family dinner.  What was their reaction?”

“Tons of love, all around.”

“Exactly.  Nothing to worry about.”

Chris threw his empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can.  They were more than halfway around the lake now, heading back toward the shops and the car.  He shoved both hands in his jeans pockets, bracing himself.  “So, three.  Three is the worst.”

“What’s three?” Katie asked.

“Three is I tell him, and he reciprocates, and we try, and it doesn’t work.  The same thing happens again… like last time I tried.  We’re not compatible and I lose him anyway, but with a lot more mortification.”

Katie threaded her arm through his and leaned her cheek on his shoulder, forcing them to slow down.  “I don’t see that happening.”

“Yeah?  Okay, tell me.  Because I could use the reassurance that I’m not, you know, broken or something.”

She squeezed his arm.  “Well, to start with, Zach’s not an asshole like Philip was.”

“He wasn’t an ass—”

“He really was, Chris.  It was your first time, and he treated you like shit.”

Chris couldn’t really argue with that.  Except that he sort of felt that Philip’s reaction had been reasonable under the circumstances.  “He was disappointed.”

“So were you.  The two of you could have worked through it and it could have made things stronger.  Instead he took no responsibility and walked away.  He’s a shit, and I don’t say that often.”

“What if I freak out?”

Katie nodded thoughtfully.  “You might have to give him some background so he’s prepared in case that happens.”

“Oh, that’ll be a fun conversation.”

“No. probably not.  But Zach _isn’t_ an asshole.  And if you two are going to have a physical relationship, he deserves to know.  And I’m sure it will help.”

Chris wasn’t sure, but knew better than to argue.  They walked in silence to the western shore of the lake.  

Katie squeezed his arm again.  “Can I ask you something?  And you don’t have to answer if it’s too weird to tell your sister.”

“Shoot.”

“You were worried that you’d freak out.  Do you...do you want him?  Like, viscerally?  Do you—”

“Wake up hard in the middle of the night because I’m dreaming about him?  Yeah.  Every night lately.  And now that he’s not in the house I’ve been—”

“Okay, okay… I don’t need details.  I just wanted to make sure that you were physically attracted as well as emotionally.”

“God, Katie.  I’ve never wanted anyone more.  He makes me so fucking crazy.”  He shook his head ruefully, raking a hand through his hair.  “I thought you wanted me to hold off.  You said to be careful, that he was vulnerable.”

“He was.  I don’t know if he is still.  You’ll have to decide.”

“We’ll see when he gets back.  We’ll see what he wants to talk about tonight.”

Chris spent the rest of the day preparing for his meeting with Mr. Evans.  He called Zach on the way into town, but the baby was crying, and by the time they’d gotten him calm Chris had arrived and needed to go in.

“I can call you when I get out,” he offered.

“I have an early call for makeup,” Zach said, clearly disappointed.  “Go ahead and try.  I’ll have it on silence while I’m sleeping, but if I’m still awake, I’ll answer.”

“You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah,” he said after a brief hesitation.  “Go to your meeting.  Knock him dead.”

“Okay.  I’ll see you Friday if I don’t talk to you before.  Get some sleep.  And give Nathan a kiss from me.”

“I’ll try.  And I will.”

The meeting went well.  Mr. Evans had made a point of seeing all of Chris’ films. _All_ of them.  Which made Chris self-conscious.  But the man spoke kindly of Chris’ strengths as an actor, even in the shitty films, and asked him to come read for the director they’d chosen for one of the scripts he’d been sent.  Chris learned that Mr. Evans had been impressed with his character analysis during the last meeting and wanted that depth of understanding on this film.  Chris had a really good feeling about it.

Chris tried calling Zach on the way home, as much because he wanted to share the news of his meeting as anything.  But it was after midnight on the east coast, and he wasn’t surprised when Zach didn’t answer.  He listened to music on the way home, happy anticipation for both his career and personal life buzzing through his mind.

The next morning was quiet.  Chris took the dogs for a run and then worked in the garden until two, thinking that maybe he could rearrange some of the planters to make room for a play structure for Nathan.  His phone rang, and he wiped his hands off to answer, figuring Zach was finally finished shooting.

But it wasn’t Zach.  It was Chris’ publicist.

“You know how I alert you if your name pops up in social media too much?”

“Yeah,” Chris answered warily.

“Well, I’m sending you some links.  Just so you’re aware.  I don’t think there’s anything to do, but I don’t want you surprised.”

That didn’t sound good.  Noah came over and nudged Chris’ hand with his nose, and Chris took some comfort petting him as he opened the links.

They were Tweets by someone he’d never heard of berating Zach for cheating on Chris — which was technically impossible since they weren’t actually dating.  He scrolled through the Tweets until he came to the first of the series.  It was just a picture with the caption “WTF?!?”.  

A picture of Zach in a cafe having lunch.  And across the table from him was Miles holding Nathan.  And both men were smiling.


	8. Day 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris may have been a little anxious the last 24 hours.

Chris was a nervous cleaner.  Before a big audition, before a date, before a paper was due in college, he’d find time to reorganize his bookshelves, dust, and clean the toilets.  It helped him process his thoughts.  If he was thinking about a role or a book, the arcs of characters would become distilled until he could see each inflection point, each moment where a character was on one path, and then something happened, and he was suddenly on another.  And the points were like lights, forming constellations, forming universes that held these characters’ lives.  Things of beauty.  Clarity.

Zach was coming home today.  Chris’ house was _immaculate_.  

And he had no fucking clue what was going to happen.

He knew what he’d _tried_ to do the last twenty-four hours.  He’d tried to get his head back into that space he’d been in when he bought the ticket to Pittsburgh.  He was helping a friend.  A really good friend, whom he loved dearly and wanted the best for.  And Zach got to choose what was best for him, and Chris had to want it for him, because that’s what friends did for each other.  He tried to remember the sky as he’d driven to the airport that morning.  The way it had seemed full of possibilities and hope.  

He’d spent the last day trying to squash any other hopes that had manifested over the intervening month.

He ran his hand through his hair as he paced the house.  Zach’s room — also known as the guest room, he reminded himself — looked empty and tidy without the energy Zach imbued in every space he occupied.  A yoga mat leaned in the corner, neatly rolled.  A stack of baby books rested on the side table.  It was much as Zach had left it.  Chris had only dusted in here, careful not to disturb drawers or other private areas.  He left with the feeling even that had been intrusive or presumptuous.

Nathan’s room — also known as the office — felt more comfortable.  Chris had restocked the changing table in the corner.  Diapers and clean onesies and burp cloths were all neatly stacked in the shelves; the diaper bin and hamper were empty and clean, awaiting Nathan’s return.  Chris’ book shelves had been rearranged, some novels and classics moved to a basket on the floor to make room for children’s books, from A. A. Milne to Sandra Boyton.  His desk was tidy but for stacks of scripts and his laptop.  The bassinet stood under the window, ready to be rolled wherever it was needed, or to provide Nathan with a warm sun-streamed nap site where it was.  

Chris retreated to his own room.  The linens on his bed were clean.  He’d washed away the evidence of any fantasies he’d succumbed to during the first nights of Zach’s absence.  Any explorations of old desires and fears.  Those had been heady nights, when he’d allowed himself to feel and _want_ things he’d normally deny himself.   And the truth was, he couldn’t let go of the desire. Now that he’d allowed his mind to run free with it, it had saturated his skin and muscles and bones.  No.  He hadn’t lost his desires.  But he was no longer swimming in the hope that the night on the sofa had generated.  The hope that Zach wanted him.  _Really_ wanted him.  If Miles could slip so easily back into Zach’s life, maybe that hadn’t been what was happening at all.

He’d shared the links with Katie, who promptly told him that it might not be what it looked like.  And he’d done something he NEVER did, and actually watched the internet to see if any other pictures surfaced.  There had been two more, also from that lunch, much the same as the first but without the smiles.  And there had been one of Zach walking down a street with Nathan sleeping in a carrier sling.  And he’d felt a bit like a jealous boyfriend or a stalker, but he’d been oddly comforted that there were no more.  And then he’d felt like shit and closed the computer.

And Katie could be right.  It might not mean anything.  Or…  Zach could come home and say he was moving back to New York.  Chris had no flicker of intuition, no idea which path seemed more plausible, so he was bracing himself for the worst.  And in doing so, he’d learned something.  He’d spent the last day really living with the idea that Zach would leave and not be part of Chris’ daily life anymore — and Chris _hated_ it.  The thought that he'd never again see Zach stumble out of his room wearing nothing but sleep pants, groggy and pre-verbal, and have his face light up as Chris handed him coffee... it was viscerally painful.  He'd miss so much.  Not just the time shared caring for Nathan, or juggling schedules to take turns caring for him, but all the time in between.  The time just talking about scripts or books or work.  Doing yoga or weights while Nathan slept, because they couldn't run together again until Nathan was big enough for the jogging stroller.  The warm light in Zach’s eyes when they talked.  Not to mention all of the potential.   Everything that was just starting to stir between them would flicker out if Zach left now.  Chris finally knew what he wanted, what he hoped for.  To see it snatched away before he could really nurture it was agonizing.  

Chris thought back on the last month, the ways that he’d felt they’d gotten closer, the tension he thought he’d observed.  But all of that could be construed as platonic.  Even the almost-kiss could have just been an intense moment of friendship or kinship or something.  It was totally possible he was just projecting his own feelings onto Zach.

His phone buzzed, and he looked down to see a new text alert.  Zach’s flight had been delayed, and Chris had offered to come get him, despite the fact that the studio had originally arranged for a car.  But Zach had apparently gained some luggage on the trip and insisted that they let the studio drive him home.  That way, he said, Chris could relax, and they wouldn’t have to worry whether everything would fit in the car.  Zach had been faithfully texting him updates on their progress.  It wasn’t even necessary, since they had added each other on “Find My Friends”, an app that had proven invaluable as they juggled their schedules to care for Nathan.  But each time the text alert buzzed, Chris felt at once comforted and nervous.

He took one more sweep around the house, putting away cleaning supplies and lunch dishes, and then the buzzer for the gate sounded.  Chris pressed the control, opening it, and headed to the porch.  The car was already being unloaded when he got there.  The driver was stacking the suitcases on the porch and Zach was very awkwardly carrying Nathan’s car seat, trying not to jostle it.  Chris couldn’t help but smile.  Nathan had to be sleeping.  The driver said something to Zach as he got back into the driver’s seat, and Zach waved at him and then turned toward the house.  The smile he gave Chris was incandescent, and Chris’ stomach flipped.  He suddenly felt very off-balance.

“Hey,” Zach said, setting Nathan’s car seat carrier on the porch and engulfing Chris in a fierce hug as the car drove away.  Chris was so startled he didn’t even respond at first, but when Zach didn’t let go, Chris wrapped his arms around Zach’s back and held on tight.  This was not what he’d braced himself for.

“You okay?” he finally asked into Zach’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Zach said with a tighter squeeze, “just really glad to be home.”

And that wasn’t really what he’d expected either.  Zach finally pulled away, reaching for the carrier.  

“I’ve got him,” Chris said, reaching for the handle.  “How long has he been asleep?”

“Maybe forty minutes.  If we can get him to the bassinet without waking him, we should get another few hours before he’s hungry and up again.  Which would be great, because I’ve gotten, like, ten hours of sleep in the last three days and got up at two a.m. your time… our time… and have no idea whether I should be going to bed or heading to a meeting.”

“Well,” Chris said, smiling down at the baby.  “I happen to be an expert at bassinet transfers.  You take care of your luggage, and I’ll take care of your son.  And you don’t look like you should go anywhere tonight; it’s late afternoon, and there’s homemade soup in the fridge, and the world can just kiss our asses for a while.”

Zach muttered something that ended in “perfect” as Chris crossed the living room.  He could hear Zach struggling with the bags as he closed the door to the nursery and set the carrier on his desk.  He carefully unlatched the buckles and eased the padded straps away from Nathan’s body and over his head.  The baby stretched and frowned and raised his eyebrows so high his forehead squished into a series of wrinkles, but his eyes stayed closed.  Chris gently worked his hands under his body, cradling him and hushing his whimpers as he walked over to the bassinet and settled him in.  

"Welcome back, Little Man," he whispered as he closed the door behind him.

He reentered the living room to find Zach standing with his hands on his hips, surveying the room and looking troubled.

"What happened?" Zach asked.

Chris looked around the room, finding nothing out of place.  "What do you mean?  I was putting Nathan down."

"No, this."  Zach waved his arms to indicate the room.  "Maybe you were just excited to have us out of your hair long enough that your house could look like a grown-up lives here, but this seems too clean for that.  You've scrubbed these floors within an inch of their lives.  A realtor could show this house to a potential buyer and find no fault.  I know you, Chris," he said gently.  "You only do this," he swept his arm around the room, "when you're upset.  So what happened?  That meeting with Evans?"

"Wow, you really do know me," he muttered.  "No.  No that went fine.  I'm preparing for a reading next week."  Chris was tempted to deflect.  He could just keep talking about the meeting, which he'd intended to tell Zach about anyway, and Zach might not even notice that he hadn't answered.  The half-truths and assurances were on the tip of his tongue.  And he looked at Zach, whose expression was so open, but was shifting to wariness.  And he didn't want those secrets and distances between them anymore.  Not unless they had to be.  Not unless Zach enforced a distance when he knew the truth.  Whatever his relationship with Zach was going to be, he wanted it based on honesty.  And that started now.  He just had to find his nerve.  "It was... Uh.  How was your lunch yesterday?"

Zach's eyes grew wide with understanding.  "You went on a cleaning spree because of those pictures?"  

Chris wasn’t surprised that Zach knew about the pictures. He figured that if his publicist had shown them to him, Zach's had probably shown him as well.  Their publicists had each other on speed dial after the chaos of Nathan's arrival and Miles' departure, and all the messiness that ensued.  Chris dragged a hand over his face, realizing that this would give his hand away.  

"More the implications."

Zach looked genuinely confused.  "The implications of a lunch with my ex?  What did you think was implied?"

"Uh,” Chris put both hands in his pockets, “that you were getting back together with Miles, moving to New York, and that you and I would go back to texting a few times a week.  You looked happy, Zach.  You looked..."  He sighed, shrugging slightly.  "You looked good."

Both Quinto eyebrows were raised to an impressive degree, and Zach let out a helpless, incredulous, almost pained laugh.  "And that — you thinking _that_ — led to this," he gestured, "'shock and awe' campaign on dust and clutter."

He nodded, not quite able to meet Zach's eyes.  

"Because you'd miss Nathan," came Zach's quiet voice.

"What?  No!" he said, looking up at Zach's guarded face.  "I mean, yeah, I would — I think he's grown since I saw him five days ago — but that's not why.  I'd miss _you_.  Like I missed you when you were gone.  Like... like I always miss you when you're gone." His voice had trailed off, and Zach's eyes softened, and he approached a few steps.

"Chris."  Just his name, said with some emotion Chris couldn't identify.  Affection mingled with sadness or caution.  Zach took a deep breath.  "I met with Miles to get my key from him — the key to my apartment.  He insisted on meeting in person to show me the list of things he'd taken.  All of his stuff, of course, but also what he considered his share of the stuff we'd bought together."

"Oh."  Well, that didn't sound pleasant at all.

"Oh," Zach repeated with a small smile, running his hand through his hair.

"So, how did that go?" Chris asked, sitting on the sofa and motioning for Zach to do the same.  Zach all but collapsed into the cushions.  Now that Chris wasn't quite as focused on his own nervousness, he could see the exhaustion etched on Zach's face.

"It was fine.  And completely surreal.  I mean, I have Nathan; why would I argue over stereo equipment?  Even _nice_ equipment.  He could have taken all of it and I probably wouldn't have cared.  But he painstakingly took me through his labyrinthian logic, and I pretended to care because he'd obviously spent so much time on it.  And we said we’d remain friends and told the other lies people tell when they break up.  But the whole time I was just struck by how... airy he seemed.  Not airheaded.  Miles is smart enough.  But he's like this bundle of nervous energy and twitching limbs and concerns about details that mean nothing to me anymore.  I remember when all that energy was first trained on me, how intoxicating it felt.  And he's charming and funny and has this sharp tongue that I remember being really attracted to, but now it just seems..." He shook his head where it rested against the cushions.  "How was I ever satisfied with someone so... insubstantial?" he mused, almost to himself.  He looked at Chris, who just gave the slightest shrug, trying not to interrupt the flow of Zach's thoughts.  "Chris, even if Miles decided he wanted a family now, even if he apologized and swore he loved me and moved to Los Angeles, we wouldn't get back together.  I don't want him anymore."

Chris wasn't sure if he imagined the slight emphasis on the word "him" or not, but he knew that the hope surging through him and causing a stampede of butterflies in his stomach _must_ be showing on his face.

"That's good,"  Chris said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.  "He doesn't deserve you."

Zach's gaze was searching.  "He told me you said that.  That first night, when I called you from Pittsburgh and then let you call him, like... some kind of knight. You told him he didn't deserve me."

The rest of what he’d told Miles hung in the air between them.  That Zach was the best man he would ever date.  That he should jump at the chance to share this with Zach.  That he would regret letting Zach slip away.  "He told you that?  When?"  Chris ignored his slight blush due to the knight comment.  His armor proved pretty rusty that night.  Not that he minded now.

“When he accused me of cheating on him with you for _months_ , and I pointed out that if we _had_ been sleeping together, you probably wouldn’t have tried to convince him to stay when I decided to keep Nathan.”

Chris snorted softly.  “You sure he’s smart?”

Zach huffed a laugh and gave Chris a mock glare, shaking his head.  Then he grew serious again, asking, “Why did you, by the way, if you didn’t think he was good for me?”

Chris shrugged again.  “You wanted him.  And I want you happy.”

“You want me happy.”  Zach repeated the phrase, looking off into the distance and  emphasizing the present tense.  He looked tired, like he was trying to work something out and just didn’t quite have the mental energy.  

“Always, Zach.  I always want you happy.”

Zach’s gaze met his again, and Chris felt — something — between them again.  Something very much like what he’d felt the night before Zach left.  The night of the almost-kiss. But then confusion marred Zach’s features again and he sat up, nudging a bit closer to Chris.  “Is that what we’re doing?” he asked quietly.

“You staying here?” Chris asked to clarify.

Zach barely nodded.  

“Well,” Chris said, considering.  “You staying here makes _me_ happy.  I hope it makes you happy, too — or at least happier than you would have been on your own through this — but I don’t pretend to know the key to your happiness.  I’ve just barely figured that out for myself, and it’s a really recent development.”

“What’s the key to your happiness, then?” Zach asked softly.

“You not moving back to New York is a really good start.”

Zach just stared at him for a minute.  “Chris, that night on the sofa… was there… did we…”

A soft cry came from the office as Zach fumbled to word his question.  He froze and closed his eyes like a condemned man,  then fell back against the cushions with a rueful chuckle.  

“Maybe he’ll fall back asleep,” Chris suggested.  Nathan’s cry softened for a second, and then resumed full force.

“He won’t.  He won’t, and his timing is impeccable, as usual.”

“What do you mean?” Chris asked, listening for any sign that Nathan might calm on his own.

“That picture you saw, where Miles and I were both smiling?  He had just taken Nathan, and my son promptly, and quite explosively, filled his diaper.  Tables all around us heard.”

“Oh my god,” Chris laughed.  

“And that,” Zach said, pointing at Chris’ face, “is the expression you saw on our faces.”

His eyes were dancing with mirth, laughter continuing to escape as Chris reacted to the news.  But then he grew serious again, smile fading as he glanced toward the office and then back to Chris, biting he his lip.  The cries were growing worse, blunt and oppressive against any return to the delicate conversation they were on the verge of having.  Chris felt the moment slipping away and knew Zach did, too.  Running a tired hand through his hair, Zach said, "Chris, we should… we need to finish this..."

"We will," Chris reassured, putting his hand on Zach's knee and noting the small gasp his touch elicited.  "But not this minute.  You're not moving to New York, and I'm not going anywhere, and sorry to say it, but you look wrecked.  Go put on some sleep pants and I'll change Nathan, and we'll talk more later."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I got this."  He stood and offered Zach his hand.  After staring at it a moment, Zach took it and allowed himself to be pulled up, nearly colliding into Chris.  Chris steadied him with his other arm, his own breath hitching at how close their faces were.  He squeezed Zach's shoulder, like a quiet promise, and took a step backwards, toward the plaintive cries.

He felt Zach's gaze follow him down the hall.


	9. Day 40, 5:30 p.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes non-verbal communication is the most direct.

"Hey, Little Man," he said as he leaned over the bassinet.  Nathan's eyes flew open as he searched for Chris' voice, arms and legs flailing wildly.  "Yeah, I'm excited to see you, too."  He picked up the child and immediately felt the problem.  "Soaked all the way through, huh?  Yeah, that would piss anyone off."  

He talked softly through Nathan's cries as he changed the clothes and diaper and the sheet on the bassinet.  “I heard what you did,” he said, bouncing the baby when Nate was clean and dry.  “That was good thinking.  When we can’t editorialize with words, we have to find other means, don’t we buddy?"

Chris dumped the dirty clothes in the hamper, checked that everything else was put away, and then went back into the living room with the crying baby.  It was empty.  He padded into the kitchen, where Zach was standing with his back to the door, leaning heavily against the counter, sleep pants low on his hips, exposing a sliver of skin below his grey t-shirt.  Chris’ mouth went dry, and Zach chose that moment to turn, catching Chris’ gaze.  

Zach raised a single eyebrow in surprise and said, “I made a bottle in case he needs topping off.”  

“Thanks,” Chris said, taking it and moving the nipple across the crying baby’s mouth.  “What do you say, Little Man?  Bit of a snack before you go back down?”  It took a moment for Nathan to register the bottle, but then he sucked eagerly.   “How about you?” Chris asked, looking back up at Zach.  “Are you hungry?  I made vegetable barley.”

Zach smiled.  “That’s my favorite, but it will have to wait until tomorrow.  Too many airline pretzels and bottles of water.  And as you said, I’m wrecked.”

Chris huffed a laugh, and Nathan started shaking his head, refusing the bottle and crying again.  Chris tried a few times to get it back in his mouth, but it wasn’t working.  Chris bounced and shushed him, but the cries only grew louder.

Zach ran a hand through his hair, making it stand at ridiculous angles.  “He’s not really hungry, either.   He’s just awake and doesn’t want to be.”

“Like his daddy,” Chris said with a smile.

“Yeah,” Zach laughed softly, looking down at his bare feet.  “Like his daddy.”

Chris put the bottle on the counter and grabbed a pacifier, shifting the crying baby to lean against his shoulder.

“C’mon,” he said, leaving the kitchen.

“Where are we going?” Zach asked as he followed.

“It’s time to take a nap.”

“Chris, my bed is covered in suitcases.”

“Well, good thing it’s not the only bed in the house, then.”  Zach froze behind him, and Chris reached back and took his wrist in hand.  “C’mon,” he said, shaking Zach’s arm lightly and tugging at him to follow, “let me take care of my boys.”  Zach met his eyes and after hesitating for just a moment, nodded and let himself be pulled along.

Chris let go of Zach as they entered the bedroom.  He closed the blinds against the fading daylight and continued to bounce Nathan as he piled pillows along the headboard on the left side of the bed.  Sitting on top of the covers, propped against the pillows, he got Nathan settled on his chest with a pacifier and started singing softly.  Zach just watched from the doorway, taking a few hesitant steps forward, until Chris pulled the covers down next to him and patted the bed.

“You sure?”

Chris patted the bed again and nodded as he sang, stroking the baby’s back.  Zach moved around the bed, lingering for a moment before slowly climbing under the covers and pulling them over his shoulder.  

“I’m having a distinct sense of déjà vu,” Zach said.

Chris threaded his fingers in Zach’s hair, the way he had last time he sang to both of them, during those first weeks in the hotel.  Chris thought of how far they’d come since then, how much they’d learned to balance and manage together.  He hardly realized the way his fingers stroked Zach’s hair.

It took three songs and a bit over five minutes for Nathan to settle down and stop crying.  It took another four for him to fall asleep.  And then Chris sang another two, just because he didn’t want the moment to end.  Nathan had gone sleep-heavy and warm on his chest, and Zach was curled into his side, not quite touching, but close enough that Chris could feel the heat from his body.   His eyes were closed, and dark eyelashes fanned against the dark smudges under his eyes.  A surge of protectiveness flared in his chest, and Chris really felt the truth that he’d been coming to understand over the last several weeks: he would do anything for this man and wanted him in every way possible.  Wanted this — both Nathan and Zach snuggled against him — to be his life.  And wanted more.  Now that Nathan’s cries weren’t distracting him from Zach, his body was responding Zach’s proximity.  Which was weird while holding an infant and meant it was time to put Nathan back in his own room.

Chris eased himself off the bed and was nearly to the door when Zach’s raspy voice asked, “Are you coming back?”

Chris turned and tried to see his face in the darkness but could only make out the gleam of Zach’s eyes in the shadows.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah.  Come back.”

In the office, Chris gave Nathan one last snuggle, brushing his nose against downy hair before setting him in the bassinet.  “Good night, Little Man.”

His room seemed even darker after the light of the hall, but enough twilight streamed through the edges of the blinds for him to navigate.  Zach’s breathing was even and slow.  Chris paused for a minute, debating whether it would be best to leave Zach to sleep.  But he’d said he’d come back, and whether it was to talk to Zach or just keep him company while he slept, it didn’t matter.  He went over to his dresser and exchanged the jeans and boxers he’d been wearing for a soft pair of jersey sleep pants and the shirt for a threadbare tee.  Then he moved the extra pillows and slid under the covers, holding his breath trying not to jostle the bed too much. Zach rolled onto his side, facing Chris.

“Hi,” he whispered, his voice thick and sleepy.

“Hi,” Chris answered with a smile.

There was a pause and then “So…” from both of them, followed by more smiles and more pauses.

“You first,” Zach said, pulling the covers up over his shoulder again as if he were cold.  

Chris adjusted his pillow and then settled his arm on top of the covers between them.  Their faces were a foot or so apart, and they weren’t touching, but in some ways it felt more intimate than the various times they’d snuggled together for a nap or a film.  There were no distractions, nothing to hide behind, enough darkness to make the room feel close and private, and enough light that Chris could just make out the amber in Zach’s eyes.  

“So,” he began, “I guess the meeting you wanted to talk to me about was the lunch with Miles?”

“Oh.” Zach looked taken aback.  “Well, in part. Or at least it would have come up when I told you about the meeting with the realtor.  I wasn’t trying to hide that lunch from you, Chris.”  He shook his head, and strands of his long bangs fell across his eyes.

“I know,” he said, brushing the hair back from Zach's face, watching his eyes flutter closed for a moment.  “I know.  What were you meeting with a realtor about?”

Zach opened his eyes and took a deep breath.  “I’m selling the apartment.”

That was a surprise.  Chris was sure it showed in his expression, but then a smile slowly spread across his face.  “You really aren’t moving back.”

Zach smiled, too.  “As I told you.  I still can’t believe you really thought that I would.”

Chris grimaced and took a steadying breath.  “I know.  Just, the picture took me by surprise.  And I know how how much you loved it."

Shrugging, Zach said, "I did.  And maybe, someday, New York will be in my future again, but it wouldn't be in that apartment. It worked well when I was alone, and it was okay for a couple, but for a family... I'd have to find something else. It didn't feel right, being with Nathan there.  It felt surprisingly wrong, actually. L.A. feels like home for now."

Chris wondered if Zach meant the town or this... them.  And he knew it was time.

"So, I had a few epiphanies while you were away."  Zach raised a curious eyebrow.  "Well, not so much epiphanies — they've been coming on for a long time — I just figured out that I needed to tell you sooner rather than later or you'd be introducing me to your new boyfriend and I'd have blown it again... and it _scares_ me, mostly because it's probably going to screw up everything between us, but—"

"Chris.  You're talking in circles," Zach said with a guarded but affectionate look.  "What do you need to tell me?"

Chris blew out a breath and braced himself .  "Okay, I think you know that I want you to stay here.  And that I want you to be happy.  But what you don't know, what I've never told you, is that I want... you."

Zach froze, like he was waiting for the rest of the sentence and then realized nothing else was coming.

"I know it may be too soon for you after Miles, and maybe you're not even interested in anything, or in me, but—"

Zach raised his head as if he needed a clearer view of Chris to understand his words, his expression some combination of disbelief, confusion, and hope.  "What are you saying?"

Chris thought he'd been pretty clear, but maybe this was one of those situations where words failed.  He cupped Zach's face with one hand, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone, watching emotions flicker across his face.  

"Zach," he murmured softly.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Zach's.


	10. Day 40, 6:30 p.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes non-verbal communication isn't enough...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Juno and Ducky for all the wonderful hand-holding and edits. And all of you who have commented. I'm slow responding because I've been trying to write whenever I had time for fic, but I really appreciate every single one.

The kiss was chaste at first — just soft lips and warm skin and raspy, surprised breaths.  Chris brushed his lips gently and carefully against Zach's, noting that they were softer and silkier than he expected, contrasting deliciously with the rough stubble on his chin.  The stampede of butterflies was back, and this first taste was making Chris burn for more, but he kept the kiss gentle and undemanding, letting Zach catch up and either push him away or pull him closer.

Once, twice, three times he brushed his lips against Zach's as yet perfectly frozen lips.  Chris felt the butterflies turn to ice and sink down to the pit of his stomach.  Zach wasn't responding, and he needed to end the kiss and start figuring out how to salvage their friendship.  He pressed one last kiss against Zach's mouth, pouring all the care, love, and desire he could into it.  Because if this had been a terrible mistake and was therefore the last kiss he'd ever share with Zach, Chris had to make it count.  He squeezed his eyes shut against the disappointment as he started to pull away, gently catching Zach's lower lip between his on the way.

A strangled sound came from the back of Zach's throat, and Chris was pushed onto his back.   And suddenly Zach was everywhere — half on top of him, braced on an elbow, fingers twined in his hair, mouth over his...demanding, reckless, insistent.  It took half a second for Chris to respond, wrapping his arms around Zach's back and holding on, whimpering obscenely as he surrendered.  He gave Zach whatever he wanted, let him plunder his mouth and press him into the mattress, hold his head in place.  And then, slowly, he began giving it back, slipping a hand in his hair to guide the kiss, claiming Zach's mouth, shifting under him until he could feel Zach's erection press into his thigh.  He was already fully hard — must have been even as they were merely talking.  And that was _fantastic_.  A moan escaped him as he moved against it, drawing a harsh gasp from Zach and then a delicious groan as Zach thrust slowly again.  And that was enough to make Chris want pressure against his own quickly hardening cock.  He began to twist as Zach kissed him roughly and had almost managed to get himself aligned when Zach tore himself away with a sound bordering on a sob.

"This can't be because of Nathan.  I know you love him, Chris, but you can't want me just because you love him.  I couldn't... That's not—"

"Hey, hey, that's not what's happening here."  He cupped Zach's face with both hands and gave him a kiss that was more reassuring than passionate.  Zach hovered over him, taut with desire and fear, returning his kisses, but in a distracted, tentative way.  Chris let his kisses drift to Zach's cheek.

"Do you remember the night you called me to tell me about Nathan... Do you remember Katie was spending the night?"

Zach nodded, resting his forehead against Chris' and breathing heavily against his cheek.

"She was here because I was crying into my beer about how I'd blown things with you, and how happy you were with Miles and how I was never going to get a chance to see if things could have worked between us."  He shifted so his erection pressed against Zach's thigh.  "I've wanted you for a really long time."

"Oh, god," Zach cried out with a helpless thrust.  "All these weeks I kept thinking that maybe there was a spark between us.  I thought I was going _crazy_ , because you've never so much as hinted... I convinced myself that you were being supportive and taking care of me.  But this whole time...Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I _did_ come out to Pittsburgh to take care of you.  And you've been dealing with so much, and getting over Miles.  Not two weeks ago you were still fighting with him.  And I heard you that night, Zach.  I didn't mean to, but the walls are thinner than I realized.  You were still really upset."

"Oh my god," Zach said, squeezing his eyes shut.  "Well, _that's_ mortifying.  You're wrong, though.  I wasn't upset about losing Miles; I was upset because irony is a bitch.  Here he was, accusing me of sleeping with you, when I would have loved for that to be true if only you weren't _straight_."  He laughed darkly at the memory.  "I was upset because, as close as we are, I thought that was impossible.  Why didn't you tell me?  Before that?"

"Before that you were dating Miles.  And before that, Jon, and before that, I was dating—"

"Okay, but why not at least tell me you weren't straight?  Like when we met, or when I came out?"

Zach's voice sounded hurt, like he thought Chris didn't trust him with the knowledge.  Chris swallowed and tried to clear his mind, but it was too hard while he was so submerged in the scent and heat and feel of Zach.

"That's a more involved story, and I have every intention of telling you, but you need to back up just a bit," he said, kissing the corner of Zach's mouth in apology.

"You want me off you?" Zach asked, still tentative and hurt.

"Just to the side.  I just need a little more blood to get to my brain."

"Oh," Zach said with a small laugh, moving to lay on his side next Chris, head propped up on his hand. They weren't quite touching.  "This okay?"

Chris took Zach's other hand and held it against his chest, not willing to give up all contact.  "Now it is."

Zach smiled and seemed relieved to still be touching.  

"Okay," he said, scrubbing his face with his hand.  "The reason I didn't tell you when we first got to know each other is that I’d sworn off men a few years before that.”

“Sworn off men,” Zach repeated, as if he’d misheard.

“Yeah.  So, I knew at a pretty young age that I was attracted to both girls and guys, but it took me a while to move beyond just messing around — handjobs and blowjobs.”  Zach nodded.  “When I was twenty I dated a guy I thought was going to be my first boyfriend.  But the first time we went to bed together… it was bad.”

“What do you mean ‘bad’?”

“I mean… it was my first time, and it hurt.  And I asked him to stop, and he just kept saying it would get better, and I needed to fucking relax — which felt totally impossible.  And when he was done he... implied _strongly_ that it was my fault that it hurt, and that some guys just aren’t made to bottom.”

Zach’s eyes were wide and his face...horrified pretty much captured the expression.  “He _assaulted_ you?”

“What?  No!  I went to bed with him willingly enough.”

“But you told him to stop and he didn’t?   He just…”  Zach’s face hardened.  “What’s his name?”

“Zach, no.”

“Tell me his name, I’m going to—”

“What?” Chris asked sharply.  “It was over a decade ago, Zach.  He’s not even in L.A. anymore.  You’re sounding like...”  Well, actually he was sounding like Chris when Zach told him Miles had broken up with him.

“He _stole_ from you, Chris.”

“What?  My virginity?  I wanted to go to bed with him.”

“He stole what it should have been.  He stole half your sexual identity.  For more than a decade you’ve not allowed yourself to explore it.  He probably stole almost that much time from us.  If I’d known this was possible, I would have pursued you _years_ ago.”

“And we wouldn’t have Nathan,” Chris said quietly, and Zach’s anger deflated before his eyes.  He squeezed Zach’s hand and took a breath.   “We can’t look back, Zach, we can only go forward.  I didn’t tell you to see your anger.  I definitely don’t want your pity.  You just need to know because that’s why I never said anything earlier.  And… it affects us if we pursue this.”

“Because it’s off the table,” Zach said, thoughtfully.  “That’s... fine, Chris.  We wouldn’t—”

“It’s not off the table,” Chris said, and Zach watched him intently.  “I just don’t know how I’ll react, and if I freak out, I want you to know it’s not your fault.”

Zach nodded, biting his lip as he thought.  The expression was so endearing it made Chris smile, despite their serious conversation.

”Would you top for me?”  Zach asked.

Oh.  He hadn’t considered that Zach would ask that.  “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“It doesn’t—” Zach bit off his reply, closing his eyes.  After a deep breath, he started again.  “It _shouldn’t_ hurt.  It should feel good.  It would feel good to me, I promise.  And you may decide you never want the reverse, but I _promise_ you, Chris, if you ever let me touch you like that, I will make you feel so good.  I promise, it will be so good.  I wish I could erase the memory of what happened, but at least I can erase the fear.”

Chris felt exposed and raw.  His breath wavered unsteadily.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, trying to pull himself together.  He hadn’t been consciously afraid that Zach would mock him or reject him once he knew the story, but Chris felt overwhelmed with relief, so he must have been afraid of something.  He felt Zach’s hand in his hair and opened his eyes.  Zach was hovering over him now, expression suffused with concern and affection.  All the hurt and anger was gone from his face.  “I’m sorry I’m such a disaster.  You sure you don’t want to run screaming?”

“Like I’m going to let you off the hook that easily,” Zach murmured as he leaned forward to kiss the corner of Chris’ mouth.  “And like I haven’t been an utter mess for the last month and a half.  You’ve taken care of me all that time.  Now it’s my turn.”

This kiss was different from the ones they’d shared so far.  Definitely not chaste, but not a frantic crashing of mouths.  Zach kissed him tenderly, gently exploring his mouth until Chris’ breaths no longer shuddered.  Until his near-breakdown was a distant memory and his senses were once again drowning in Zach, his body buzzing with desire, his breaths all but moans.  Because as much as he’d dreamt of Zach’s mouth, as much as he’d fantasized about how good it would feel, his imagination was _nothing_ compared the actual feel of Zach’s tongue sliding against his, Zach’s breath warm and moist against his face, Zach’s lips moving against his.  

Zach was half on top of Chris again, fingers buried in his hair, cock pressed against his thigh.  And that felt… like some sort of promise.  Chris wrapped his arms around Zach and pulled him closer, drawing a groan from him as he broke off the kiss.  

“So when you say you want me…”

“I mean naked and sweaty in my bed.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pine,” Zach said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Chris’.  He took several shaking breaths and actually trembled as he said, “I can definitely get behind this plan.”

Chris slipped his hand under Zach’s t-shirt, exploring the bare skin of his back with his fingertips.  How many times had he wanted to do this when they were lying on the sofa together watching movies?  He slid his other hand under the shirt as well, feeling the way that Zach’s muscles moved as he shifted himself to hover over Chris, one knee between his legs for balance.  Chris ran fingers up Zach’s spine, and along his shoulders, grasping at thick muscle as he continued to kiss.

“Do you plan to actually undress me, or are you just copping a feel?” Zach asked between kisses.

“Hush.  I’m savoring.”

“Savoring?” he asked with a breathy laugh.

“Yeah,” Chris said, running his fingers along Zach’s spine again and smiling at the shiver his touch induced.  “For years I’ve imaged what it would be like to be able to undress you.  Peeling off layer after layer...”

Zach groaned, kissing him harder.  “Savor faster.  I want to feel your skin against mine.”  Zach’s fingers trailed along the waistband of his sleep pants until they reached the sensitive skin below Chris’ navel.  Chris arched into the touch, and Zach smiled.

Perhaps this was not the time to savor, after all.

Their shirts were gone in a moment of fumbling arms and interrupted kisses, and then Zach was pressed against him, skin to skin, moaning into their kiss, and then moving his mouth along his jaw, down his neck…

“Fuck, Zach!” he cried, bucking up against Zach’s solid warm weight, so sexy and powerful and _real_ against him.  Chris was quickly losing any flow of thought, so immersed in the sensations Zach’s mouth was causing as he licked and kissed his way across his chest that it took him several moments to notice Zach’s hand lingering on his hip, two fingers under the waistband, waiting for permission.  Chris opened his eyes — he hadn’t realized he’d closed them — and looked down to see Zach watching him between kisses.  He ran a hand over Zach’s shoulder and down his arm until it rested on Zach’s hand, and then helped push the pants down, lifting his ass slightly as Zach tugged and pulled them off.  

“God you’re fucking beautiful,” Zach said, trailing kisses and fingers along Chris’ skin as he climbed back up Chris’ body.  “I’ve imagined _this_.  How you would feel in my hand,” he said, stroking Chris’ cock, sending a frisson of excitement up his spine.  “How you’d smell.  How you’d taste.”

“Oh!” Chris gasped, arching into Zach’s hand, his own fumbling until he found the elastic at Zach’s waist and pulled it open, slipping a hand in awkwardly.  Zach groaned as Chris’ hand wrapped around his cock, stilling as his eyes fluttered closed.  Chris watched Zach’s face as he stroked.  Watched as it went lax with pleasure, and felt a thrill that he could do that to Zach.

“Chris,”  Zach murmured, and it was practically a prayer.  And then he was moving again: surging forward to kiss Chris and then sitting up to push his pants down and off.  Chris barely had time to react before Zach’s face was by his again and his knees were nudging Chris’ legs apart so he could kneel between them.  “Do you have any lube?”

Chris’ eyes flew open, and he swallowed hard.   Man, Katie had been right about Zach heading straight to the deep end.  He pointed to the night stand.  “Second drawer.”

Zach leaned over him and rummaged through the drawer, and Chris tried not to let his nerves show.  He trusted Zach.  

Soon Zach was kneeling again, sitting on his heels between Chris’ legs, stroking his own lube-slicked cock as he eyed Chris appreciatively with dark hooded eyes.    And Chris was not at all alarmed by the size of his cock.  He really wasn’t.  He was mesmerized by it — flushed and hard and surrounded by a thatch of dark hair that seemed to draw even more attention to how thick and perfect it was.  Chris watched, completely fascinated, as Zach pushed back the foreskin.  And Chris suddenly wanted that cock in his mouth, wanted to feel the smooth skin against his tongue, even if it would taste like lube.

“Whoa, hold on,” Zach said, gently pushing Chris’s shoulder back into the mattress.  “It’s your turn now.”

Chris lay back down as Zach slicked his hand up again, this time wrapping it around Chris’ cock.  And that felt….

“Fuck!” he groaned, arching again and chastising his brain for the limited vocabulary he seemed to have at his disposal currently.  Because surely there were better words to describe the feeling of Zach — Zach — stroking his cock.  Fantastic.  Magnificent.  Incredible. Incendiary.  Sublime. _Scorchingly_ hot.  And some of that he must have said out loud because Zach was suddenly hovering over him again, clean hand threaded in his hair and lips pressing kisses along his jaw.

“I’ve got you,” he said thickly, and then Chris felt Zach wrap his large hand around both of their cocks, and he just about came right then.  Zach stroked them together, tight slippery grip pressing Zach’s hard length against his.  Chris clutched at Zach’s shoulders, trying to get closer.  He thrust into Zach’s fist, feeling himself slide against Zach’s cock and drawing a delicious groan from him.  And he wanted more of that.  More friction, more of Zach’s groans.  He thrust again.

“Yes,” Zach whispered.  “That’s it.  That’s perfect. You feel so fucking perfect.”  Zach kissed him harshly, deliciously.  “Show me.  Let me see you come apart.”

The sensations were nearly overwhelming.  Zach’s scent and heat and strength holding him, stroking him… and Chris was so close, so close.  And from the way Zach was gasping and tensing, he was too.  Chris slid his free hand between them and wrapped it around the heads of both their cocks, lengthening the channel they had to thrust into.  His hand wasn’t slick like Zach’s, but that just gave an extra bit of friction where they were most sensitive.  

“Chris,” Zach cried, thrusting against his hand.  “Yes, yes.  Fuck.  Right there.”  And any control either had left at that point dissolved.  Kisses and thrusts were frantic and in only moments he felt Zach stiffen as his own balls tightened and he had no idea which of them came first.

For long moments the world was just his own heaving breaths and Zach’s warm weight where he’d collapsed on top of him.  Chris wrapped both arms around Zach’s shoulders and buried his face in his hair, finally allowed to savor as Zach recovered.  As the world came into focus again, he felt Zach start to shift off of him and clung tighter.

“No,” he said, threading his fingers through Zach’s sweat soaked hair to hold him in place.

Zach huffed a laugh. “I’ll get heavy.”

“Hmmmm,” Chris agreed, “eventually,  But not yet.”

Zach lay back down on Chris’ chest.  And truthfully, he was a little heavy, but Chris was not quite ready to let go.  

They breathed together for long minutes, Chris’ mind wandering through warm bliss, drifting from consciousness when he heard, “I’m going to fall asleep like this, Chris.  And then later, we’ll wake up glued together, which… no.  Let me go get a wash cloth.  Or my shirt,” he said with a kiss on Chris’ chest.  “I promise, I’ll be right back.”

Chris groaned and let go of Zach. A moment later he felt a warm wet cloth wiping him clean.  And then the sheets being pulled up.  And then… nothing.  

Chris opened his eyes and saw that night had finally fallen.  The only light in the room was coming from under the closed door.  Chris blinked at it, and was just starting to feel something was wrong when it disappeared and the door opened.

“Zach?”

“Yeah.  I thought I’d check on Nathan while I was up.”

“Oh.  He okay?”

“Yeah.”  And he could hear an almost shy quality in Zach’s voice.

Smiling at how fucking endearing he found that, he said, “Good.  Come back to bed.”

Zach slid back under the covers, curling into Chris’ side with his head on his chest, and they tangled their limbs together in a way that had always felt platonic before.  It didn't anymore.

“Okay?” Zach whispered.

"Mmmmmm."  Chris carded fingers gently through Zach's hair, smoothing it off his face and kissing the top of his head.  “Perfect.”


	11. day 41, 12:03 a.m.

Chris raised his head and squinted at the clock as Nathan's cries grew louder.  And then it hit him: the reason his bed was so warm, the reason Zach hadn't already gotten the baby.  He turned his head and found Zach sleeping peacefully next to him, hipster bangs falling across his eyes in a way Chris found completely endearing.  He bit back the ridiculously stupid grin spreading across his face and resisted brushing Zach's hair out of his face as he got out of bed.  He found his sleep pants crumpled on the floor and pulled them up quickly, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Hey, Little Man.  Time to eat, huh?" he asked as he rescued the baby from the bassinet and started to change him.  "I think I have to agree, actually.  Your daddy distracted me from my dinner.  Not that I'm complaining," he said with a wink.  Nathan kicked his legs in response.  "Yeah, I'm pretty happy about this change, too.  So, how would you feel about sticking around here a while longer?  Like, a lot longer?  Would that work for you?"

Nathan was flexing his fists and gurgling happily as Chris picked him up and carried him to the kitchen.  "The thing is, I really like having you guys here, but Daddy's spent all this money setting up your house.  It's a bit of a conundrum," he said, putting the bottle in the water bath to heat it and got a snack for himself.

Nathan took the bottle eagerly and started drifting back to sleep almost as soon as it was done and burped.  Chris snuggled him one last time against his bare chest before placing him back in his bassinet and returning to bed.  

He looked at Zach for a moment in the dim light of the clock.  He was still sleeping, blankets pulled halfway up his chest, completely beautiful and — by some twist of fate Chris still didn't quite believe — in _his_ bed.  Considering just a moment, he dropped his pants and climbed back under the covers.

Zach groaned a sleepy protest.  "Mmmm.  Y'r cold."

"From taking care of your son," Chris huffed, tugging the covers up to his neck.  

"Mmmm," Zach kissed his shoulder and then pushed at him, encouraging Chris to roll onto his side, and then sliding forward to spoon him from behind.  "Guess it's my job to warm you back up, then."  He pressed sleepy kisses against the back of Chris' neck and wrapped an arm around him.

"Damn straight," Chris whispered through a smile as he snuggled into Zach's embrace.  He felt Zach fall back to sleep, and as he drifted off himself he thought that if this could be his life, he'd be a very happy man.

Nathan woke again at 5:30, and this time Chris grabbed his sweatshirt and slippers as well as sleep pants before retreating from the bedroom.

He and Nathan stayed busy for the next few hours — eating, reading, playing — until a very disheveled Zach finally emerged from the bedroom, groggy and bed-headed and fucking sexy and adorable.

"Well, good morning," Chris said with a smile and a flutter in his stomach.  He didn't expect Zach to regret anything from last night, but he'd been certain of that after previous "first times" and had it bite him in the ass.  He tried to tamp down the uncertainty he felt.

"Mmmmm.  It certainly is," Zach said sitting on the sofa next to Chris.  Nathan was reclining on Chris' lap facing him.  Chris' thighs were just long enough to accommodate the baby's length, and with his feet perched on the coffee table, he made a perfect infant recliner.  Zach ran his hand over his son's hair.  "I was a little disappointed to wake up alone until I saw the time and realized you must have been taking care of Nathan for hours.  Thank you for letting me sleep."  He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Chris' lips — chaste, but warm and affectionate and full of promise.  That dissolved most of Chris' worries.  

"And how are you, Nathan?" he asked, bending down to brush a kiss on his son's forehead.  "Did you have fun with Chris this morning?"

It was first time in weeks Zach hadn't referred to him as "Uncle Chris" when talking to Nathan, and he was taken aback until he realized that Zach was marking their change in status.  Because you don't go to bed with your brother-in-arms, and you don't kiss him the next morning.  Which means he's not Nathan's uncle. He's something closer, he hoped.  Something to still be determined.

He smiled through a slight blush as he answered, "We had a great morning, didn't we, buddy?"  He stroked Nathan's cheek, adding, "We've pretty much solved the problems of the world, read some Jules Verne, and we were just about—”

Nathan stretched his mouth in one of those yawns that newborns invest their entire bodies into.

“Well, I had a good time,” Chris said with a laugh.

"He might be ready to sleep again," Zach suggested with a smile.

"It's been a couple hours," Chris said, nodding.  "He probably needs to eat again, first."

"Come to Daddy," Zach said, lifting the kicking, cooing baby off Chris' lap.  "I can smell coffee, too, so maybe there's something in the kitchen for both of us.  Actually," he said turning to Chris, "what else do I smell?  Are you cooking?"

"Frittata," Chris confirmed, grabbing his empty coffee mug as he followed.

"You're making me a frittata?"  Zach busied himself making Nathan's bottle as Chris poured them coffee.

"Who says it's for you?  You could've slept til noon, for all I knew."  He raised his coffee to his mouth, hiding his smirk as Zach gave him a knowing look.

"You're spoiling me."

Chris shrugged.

"You've been spoiling me for weeks, actually."

"No, I've been helping you take care of things for weeks.  That's different."

"Okay," Zach said, taking a sip of his coffee.  "Oh, that's good.  Okay, I'll bite.  How is this frittata different from the one you made two weeks ago when Joe came over to take pictures of Nathan?"  

Zach's eyes were bright with humor, and he stood there holding Nathan in one arm, his coffee in the other hand, leaning against the counter.  And he looked so perfect, Chris could barely believe he was allowed to touch him, even as he drew closer and placed a hand on the bare skin above Zach's hip.  He felt Zach shiver as he whispered with nervous daring, "I made this one for my boyfriend."

And he really hoped they were on the same page about this... It _seemed_ like they were, based on Zach's greeting this morning, but there were a lot of details to work out.  He bit his lip as he watched Zach react, and started to think of ways to soften the declaration in case Zach wanted to take things more slowly, when Zach set his mug down and pulled Chris close.  He cradled the back of Chris' head in his hand and kissed him thoroughly, still holding Nathan in his other arm.  The kiss was possessive and gently demanding, and Chris gave… anything Zach wanted, until his knees were weak and his lungs rebelled and he was worried he was going to tip his mug of coffee.  He broke off the kiss to breathe and set his mug down on the counter, wrapping his other arm around Zach and capturing Nathan as well.   Zach gasped when Chris' arm slid under his, helping support the child's weight.

"Is that okay?" he asked quietly, resting his forehead against Zach's.  

"God, yes," Zach said, kissing the corner of Chris' mouth.  "And a subject I intended to broach this morning once I had a bit more coffee."

"Sorry to jump the gun; I've been up thinking about it for a couple hours."

"It's okay, it's just... You have to realize we're a package deal," he said, bouncing Nathan.

"You think I'm unaware of the fact that a relationship with you involves a relationship with your son?  You, Nathan, and your menagerie of animals have been living with me for weeks."

"I know, I do... Just, have you _really_ thought about it?  Nathan won't be going to college for eighteen years.  Before that he'll become a brooding Quinto teenager.  I'll give you my mom's number if you want to know what that's like."

"I have your mom's number, dork.  I can get the goods on you any time I want." Chris paused, pulling back to get a better look at Zach's expression.  "Are you trying to talk me out of this?"

"No!  I'm not.  And I don't expect any promises right now.  But that... eighteen years or whatever... that has to be a _possibility_ , or else I can't..."

Zach looked devastated for a moment, gaze falling to Nathan's face.  The baby was looking back and forth between them as if he were following along the conversation.

"Zach," Chris said quietly, waiting for him to meet his gaze.  "I'm not Miles."

"I know."

"No, seriously, I'm not Miles.  I'm not going to bolt as soon as things get complicated.  And I don't want you just because I love Nathan, but I _do_ love him.  I mean, what's not to love?  He's _your_ son, and I'm fucking crazy about you.  Plus, he likes my singing.  So even if you told me this morning that last night had been a mistake, I'd give him anything he needs.  Which means if you need to be on location for a few weeks and can't bring him with you, I want to be on the list of people who get to take care of him.  And if your plane goes down on the way there, I want to be the one with dibs to adopt him.  And if we stay together and his eyebrows finally grow in, you can both try to intimidate me into doing extra dishes with your supervillain glares.  It still won't work, but you can gang up on me and try.  And if—"

"Okay," Zach cut him off with another scorching kiss.  "You've made your point, morbid bits and all."  He kissed him again.  "I'm sorry.  I know you well enough to know you wouldn't have suggested it if you hadn't already completely over-analyzed it."

Chris huffed into Zach's apologetic kiss.  "I'm not alone in that tendency, you know."

"You're not.  I can get wrapped up in my own head as easily as you.  We'll have to rescue each other from that."

Chris smiled against Zach’s lips.  "Deal."

The oven buzzer went off, and Nathan's bottle was ready, and there was a flurry of activity while Zach fed the baby and Chris finished preparing breakfast.  Chris was just plating up the fresh fruit when Zach reentered the kitchen without the baby.

"Oh my god, that smells so good," he said.  "What can I do?  Do you want to eat in here or outside?"

"Let's go to the patio.  The table is still in the shade, and it's beautiful out.  I'll grab this," Chris said, picking up a tray with their coffees, a plate of toast, cutlery, napkins, and preserves.

The bougainvillea and star jasmine were in bloom, framing the view of the pool and garden from the small table.  It was one of his favorite parts of the house, but seemed particularly idyllic as he sat across from Zach, still shirtless and tousled and moaning over Chris’ cooking.  

“You added asparagus.”

“Well, that’s what you said it needed the last time I made it.”

“I know, but you actually did it.”  Zach took another bite and hummed appreciatively.  Chris just laughed, though it occurred to him that if Zach was this excited about getting asparagus in his frittata, maybe his last few boyfriends hadn't taken very good care of him.  “I can’t believe you waited for me to eat.  Hasn't your blood sugar plummeted?  How are you not inhaling this?”

"Oh, well, I had a snack at midnight when I got up with Nathan,” Chris said, grabbing a piece of toast from the tray and starting to spread apricot preserves on it.  “And again at six when he woke up this morning.”

Zach snorted.  “Well, that makes more sense.  And explains why you’re in such a good mood.”

“You think _that’s_ why I’m in a good mood?” Chris asked with a raised eyebrow, setting the knife down and taking a bite.

Zach’s dimple showed as he smiled shyly, and Chris' stomach flipped.  Eyes dancing, Zach bit his lip and reached across the table to take Chris’ free hand.  “So, boyfriends?”

"Yeah," Chris answered, threading their fingers together.  "Unless you want to hold off until we figure out if we're, you know... compatible."

Zach raised their joined hands to his mouth, kissing Chris' fingers and sending shivers up his spine.  "That's not going to be an issue."

Chris looked away.  "You say that now, but—"

Zach ran his tongue along Chris' finger, completely derailing his train of thought.  He smirked as Chris struggled to remember what he wanted to say, kissed Chris' fingers one more time, and lowered their hands to the table.  

"I'm not trying to downplay what happened to you, but I put the responsibility squarely on your asshole ex-lover.  We're not going to have that problem.  Besides," he said when Chris started to interject, "I'm looking for much more in a relationship than a fuck, and I really enjoyed what we did last night."

Chris' protests died on his lips, and he squeezed Zach's hand.  "Me, too."  He could feel himself blush, much to Zach's apparent delight.  Chris rolled his eyes, embarrassed to be reacting like some teenager. "Eat your frittata," he mumbled.

"Yes, dear," Zach said with humor and heat in his eyes.

"So _that's_ how it's going to be," Chris said, blushing more as Zach's eyes roamed his face, but then the humor in Zach's expression turned nervous.

"Uh, actually, I do want to talk about that."

Chris raised an eyebrow as he chewed.  "You want to discuss endearments?"

"Not exactly.  More— who I can say them in front of.  Who do you want tell?  Or do you want to tell anyone, yet?  I mean, you haven't even been _in_ the closet the last ten years, much less out of it."

Chris had been thinking about that much of the morning, too.  "What did Kristen tell you about that meeting?"

"The one that shall go down in history as the 'spin-the-bottle meeting'?"

Chris nodded.

Zach looked thoughtfully at the vines overhead for a moment, then met his gaze.  "According to her sources, you were fierce.   And when they tried to bully you, you just... said your piece and walked away.  That gave me hope, actually.  Why wouldn't you tell them we were merely friends unless you felt something more?"

Chris felt some of that old anger flare up from the memory.  "That wasn't really why I did it.  I mean, it's true that it would have felt like a lie to say we were just friends, but I lie to strangers about my personal life all the time.  I think saying it out loud would have felt like actively denying the possibility of more, which was the last thing I wanted to do — and that was before I knew it was going to get back to you.  But even that wasn't why I walked away.

“What really set me off was the idea that I should be ashamed to be close to you — or excuse it away — when you are in fact one of the best and bravest people I've ever known.  Look at how you've handled everything the last few months... Everything to do with that _beautiful_ surprise sleeping in the office.  I'm proud of you, Zach.  Proud to be your friend.  Proud to be your boyfriend.  Those assholes implying that I shouldn’t feel that… it made me realize in an instant and with _profound_ clarity where my priorities were.  And it felt good.  I don't want to hide my connection to you, and I don’t want to pretend it’s less than it is.”

Zach looked flabbergasted.  Utterly, completely flabbergasted. He looked down at their joined hands, rubbing a thumb over Chris’ finger.  “You’re not worried about roles?  I know you gave up one, but coming out can have a chilling effect,  especially on the action hero roles.  Not that I’d know — I was always more of a villain anyway.  But you actually get those roles.  I’m not arguing for hiding, but I want to make sure you’re not going to resent me if you stop getting to play the hero.”

Chris shrugged.  “I love playing Kirk, despite my initial concerns.  He’s more complicated than most of those heroes.  I may not get another Ryan film anyway — it didn’t do that well.  And I don’t really want my career to be nothing but those two-dimensional, musclebound, lookalike Ken dolls.  I don’t want to just be another blond guy named Chris running around and blowing up bad guys.  Did you know I have people come up to me in bars and say they loved me as _Thor_ ?  I don’t want to just be one of the Chrises.  I have a body of that work now.  People can decide for themselves if I’ve proven I’m good at it, and if they want me to do it again for them.  _I_ want to do other things as well.  This film Evans has me reading for… I’ll be reading for five out of the six major male roles.  One is queer, one gets sick and dies, one struggles with depression… I have no idea which one they want me for, but any of them would awesome.  They feel like real people with real lives full of heartache and joy.  And none of them blows anything up.  I’m really looking forward to it.  And Evans already thinks we’re a couple.  So yeah, I’m not worried, and I’m not hiding you.”

Zach looked stunned, but then he straightened up, taking a deep breath as his eyes lit with heat and desire and something fierce that sent a thrill up Chris’ spine.  “God, you’re so… just come here,” Zach said, standing purposefully and tugging on their joined hands as he came around the table, pulling Chris into his arms.  “You can’t say things like that with an entire table between us,” he whispered and then kissed him soundly.  

“Sorry, I was monologuing,” Chris said between kisses.  

Zach huffed a laugh.  “It was beautiful,” Zach murmured against his mouth.  

Chris slowly eased out of the kiss.  “So, how about you?  Who do you want to tell? What do you want to do?”

“Hmmm,” Zach thought for a moment.  “I want to walk down Rodeo Drive hand-in-hand and let the paps take our picture and let the whole world know at once.  But perhaps we should have our lawyers check the Trek contracts and make sure nothing’s going to bite us in the ass.”

“That’s true,” Chris laughed. “I know there’s nothing in the Ryan option that would be a problem.  By then you’d put enough of a dent in my “sworn off men” armor that I was watching for that sort of thing.  But Trek was a long time ago.”

“We’ll make sure before we go public.  In the meantime, we should tell our families.”

“Katie assures me that my folks already think we are a couple.”

“Really?” Zach asked, pulling away to get a better look at Chris’ face.  “That puts the family dinner a few weeks ago in a different light.  Is Katie supportive as well?”

“Yeah, she’ll be relieved that I finally manned up and made my move.”

Zach snorted and kissed him again.

“Your family?”

“Hmmm,” Zach considered.  “Joe won’t be too surprised.  He’ll be happy for us.  He really likes that you’re more down to earth than most people I’ve dated and that you understand sports.  But my mom… that’s going to be a problem.”

“Wait, really?  I thought your mom liked me.”

“Oh, she does.  She’s been telling me since we saw her in Pittsburgh that you had feelings for me.  I’ve spent a significant amount of energy over the last five weeks convincing her you’re straight and don’t think of me that way.  She’s going to be completely insufferable.”

Smiling, Chris dug his phone out of the pocket of his sleep pants and navigated through his “Favorites” photo album until he found the picture Margo had taken of him and Zach on the sofa all those weeks ago.  He handed it to Zach, who recognized the day immediately.

“She took this?”

“Unless it was Nathan,” Chris suggested.

“ _Completely_ insufferable.”

 


	12. THIS IS NOT A REAL CHAPTER—THIS IS HALLOWEEN CRACK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trick or treat? I little of both, I hope. This is a little 1k ficlet I wrote for the Pinto Bar Halloween Party and decided to share. It is in the Bleary universe, perhaps 4-5 months in the future compared to our current chapters. If you like this evil fluff, you should download it, because I intend to remove it when I post the real next chapter later this week. I will obviously not be making my Friday evening posting for that, but it is more than half written, and I hope this future ficlet will tide you all over. Oh, and when I take this down and post the new "real" chapter 12, I don't know if you'll get another notification. So you might just check back. 
> 
> So, it's Halloween, several months after chapter 11, and we are in Zach's POV for a change. Mwahaha!!!

Zach let himself into the house and dropped his messenger bag on the floor.  He still had forty-five minutes before they had to be walking out the door again, ready for the Halloween party at Zoe’s.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called out over the music, untying his shoes and leaving them by the door.  Chris was obviously getting into the mood; his Halloween playlist was drifting through the air, shifting Zach quickly out of work-mode.  At least their costumes were easy.  He’d take a quick shower and dress and they’d be on their way.  

“How was the meeting?” Chris called from one of the bedrooms.

“Good.  I’ll tell you later.  I’m going to hit the shower!” he called, walking back to the master bath.  He peeled off his clothes and started the shower.  It was good to be home.  Good to have no work responsibilities for a few days.  Three weeks ago they’d gotten the invitation to Zoe’s party.  And it was the first party, really, where they would be a family and there wouldn’t be any overt Hollywood schmoozing happening.  It wasn’t a cast party. Not _really_ , despite the fact that most of the Trek cast would be there.  No suits, though, and that made all the difference.

Zach moved under the stream and rinsed the sweat and tension off his skin.  They’d been looking forward to this for weeks — ever since the invitation came.  And they’d put a lot of thought into their costumes.  But there was a catch.  It was easy to think of things they could be as a couple.  They had almost a dozen options before they settled on an easy and obscure couple that they felt sure their friends would know, but few others would understand.  But the options for Nathan were nothing short of pathetic.  Pea pods and ketchup bottles and caterpillars.  Zach had finally just bought the least dreadful option and called it done. But he wasn’t happy.  Unless he or Chris learned to sew, though, there was nothing much to be done.  Nathan would be The Hungry, Hungry Caterpillar.  Which was at least one of the books Chris read to him regularly.  It was probably sitting on the coffee table this very moment.   _And_ it fit his personality.  It wasn’t quite as ironic or cool as Zach would have preferred, but that was where they’d ended up.

Zach got out of the shower, dried off, and wandered out to the bed… which did not have his costume on it.  Instead, just a bunch of his clothes were laid out: a purple striped hoodie, a turquoise tank, skinny jeans, Converses, and the white hat he’d worn an entire season before getting tired of it.  

On top of the clothes was a note in Chris' tidy scrawl: Change of plans.  Put this on.

"This isn't a costume," Zach called down the hall.  "These are just regular clothes."

Chris called something back, but he could only make out the "says you" at the beginning.

Well, if he wasn't going to wear the fez, he needed to style his hair, even if the back was going to be covered by the hat.  He went through his normal post-shower routine.  His hair was a little longer than usual, because Chris liked it that way and Zach loved that he had a preference, even if it did take extra time to tame.

So by the time he was lacing up the blue Converses, they only had a few minutes before they needed to leave.  He grabbed his keys and went to the nursery to help pack Nathan's diaper bag.

Chris was standing at the changing table with his back to the door, obviously wrestling Nathan into some outfit, despite the fact that the caterpillar snugly was still hanging on the door.

"Chris?"

And then he moved, and Zach saw his son, as well as the purple striped hoodie Chris was threading his arms into.  But that was not the most striking part of the costume.

"What have you done?" he asked, equal parts horrified and fascinated.  And amused.  He bit his lip trying to maintain a facade of displeasure.

"I didn't do it.  I called in the pros.  And Carrie used the smallest hairs they had left for your Spock brows and the glue for extra sensitive skin that they used on baby Spock's ears, and gave me special cleanser to make sure I get it all off tonight.

Zach should probably be upset that Chris had glued prosthetics on his son's face without his permission, but really he just found it hysterical.  Because he knew Chris wouldn't do anything to hurt Nathan, and the effect was _stunning_.  Zach couldn't hold back his giggles anymore.  "He looks like the baby Maggie Simpson hates."

"He does _not_ ," Chris said, mock affronted.  "It's not a unibrow.  He has two very nicely shaped Quinto brows."

"And a purple striped hoodie.  And the smallest Converses I've ever seen.  Omigod," Zach said with dawning compression, "he's Mini-Me."  

"He's Mini- _Z_ ," Chris corrected with a wicked grin.  "And wait for it..." he said, reaching for something on a shelf near his knees.  "Fugly hat!" he said dropping a miniature hat onto Nathan's head that looked disturbingly like the one sitting on the top of his own.  

"You're such an asshole," Zach said, laughing and reaching for his son.  "Come here Nathan.  What did babbo do to you?"

"Who?" Chris asked.

"Private joke," he said, glaring through his smile.  He still wasn't over the Captain Jack Sparrow cracks Chris had made when he was at his most sleep deprived.

Chris just laughed, completely unrepentant.

Nathan reached for Zach's hat, his overly-large brows furrowed in a way that was disturbing and endearing.  "Yes, we match, don't we?  Sneaky babbo dressed us the same."  Nathan stuck his hand in Zach's mouth, squealing with delight as Zach bit at it with his lips.  And his smile was just as delightful as ever, even with the ridiculous eyebrows.  Zach heard a shutter sound and turned to see Chris snapping a photo on his digital SLR.

"And what are you supposed to be in that truly hideous polyester pants and jacket ensemble?"

Chris waved camera with a gleam in his eye. "Paparazzo."

Zach snorted, and then smiled coming forward to kiss his boyfriend.  "The scariest thing you know of."

"The scariest thing ever," Chris said against his lips.

 

They took first prize in the costume contest: Best Horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Zach were going to go as Akbar and Jeff (http://www.amazon.com/Akbar-Jeffs-Guide-Life-Groening/dp/0679726802) before Chris got his great idea. Happy Halloween!!


	13. Day 41, 10:18 a.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We now return you to your regularly scheduled Bleary boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, some Beans in the Pinto Bar convinced me to keep the Halloween Crack chapter up. So sorry for the interruption to the flow, but hopefully the bonus material makes up for the break.

They finished their breakfast, legs tangled under the table as the sun shone through the fuchsia flowers of the bougainvillea vine, lighting them up like stained glass.  Nathan's baby monitor sat on table, blissfully silent among the ruins of empty plates and half spent jars of preserves.  Chris had peeled off his sweatshirt, basking in the filtered sunshine and contentment.   It felt lazy and indulgent and completely necessary to just take this time together after the revelations of the morning, but soon even the second cups of coffee had gone cold.

Zach stretched and leaned back in his chair, sighing.  "Thank you.  That was amazing."

"You mentioned," Chris said, laughing. "And you're welcome.  It's fun to watch you bliss out on my cooking.  I guess we should get going, though.  You have, like, fourteen suitcases on your bed, and we have all those calls to make."

"Hmmm.  Yes, we do.  But not yet."

"No?"

"Mm-mm.  And you're going to leave these dishes for me to do later."

"Okay," Chris said, smiling at Zach's lethargic bossiness.  "Anything else?"

"Is the rest of the frittata in the fridge?"

"Yeah, I put it away when I got your third helping."

"You were cutting small slices."

"Sure, we can go with that," Chris said, grinning widely.

"C'mon," Zach said, getting up and pulling Chris to his feet.  "I reek."

Chris snorted.  "Is that supposed to be enticing?"

"I want a shower, and I want you with me,"  Zach murmured, pulling Chris closer and kissing the corner of his mouth.  And actually, that was enticing, especially as Zach's gaze ran down his his chest and settled momentarily just below his navel.  A frisson of excitement swept through Chris.  "Plus, we still have things to talk about."

"In the shower?"

"Yeah.  Some things are best discussed when naked and slippery.”

“Jesus Christ, Zach,” Chris muttered, looking down and trying to fight his blush and his excitement.  Because when Zach said things like that it made him want to press him into a wall and kiss him senseless.  Taste every square inch of his skin.  Make him feel as out of control as he made Chris feel.

Zach ran a thumb over his cheek, "God, I'm going to miss this when you stop being so shy with me."  When Chris looked back up, Zach was biting back a smile, eyes shining.

"Okay?"

"Fuck, yeah," Chris said, crowding Zach and backing him into the table where he pressed a thigh between his legs and plundered his mouth.  Because Zach may be able to make him blush like a teenaged girl, but he wasn’t actually shy when he knew what he wanted.  And he wanted Zach, even if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with him.  Zach was already half hard and yielded before Chris’ steady advance, letting Chris control the kiss and groaning into his mouth.  And Chris could really do this all morning, but the idea of having Zach naked was becoming more and more appealing.

“You mentioned a shower?” he mumbled against Zach’s lips.

“Yeah.  It’s definitely time for fewer clothes.”

“Mine’s bigger than yours.”

“Christopher.  It’s not nice to brag.”

Chris pulled away, momentarily confused, and then huffed a laugh.  “My shower, asshole… my shower is bigger than the guest shower.  You should get your stuff and come in my shower.”

“I have every intention of coming in your shower,” Zach said, kissing against his jawline.  “And you can’t call me that anymore; I’m your boyfriend now.”

Chris snorted.  “It’s a term of endearment, and you use it all the time.”

“So it is.”

Zach led the way back into the house and down the hall, and Chris allowed himself the luxury and distinct pleasure of watching Zach’s ass.  Even though they'd had their hands on each other last night, they hadn't seen much.  The darkness and covers and frantic pace of events had prevented that.  The idea of peeling off Zach's clothes in broad daylight and just exploring was definitely appealing, and his body was already reacting.

They made a brief stop in Zach's room so he could retrieve his shampoo and conditioner.  Chris barely teased him for insisting on his expensive toiletries, because he actually liked the way Zach's hair smelled and felt.  Soon they were in Chris' bathroom, two clean towels hanging from the rack like they'd always belonged there.  It looked so... so _normal_ it made Chris' heart clench a little.  

Zach turned the water on to start it warming up, dropped his sleep pants, kicked them away and turned — to catch Chris staring at his ass.  Again.

Zach smiled and put his hand on Chris' hip.  "You're allowed to look, you know," he said softly, leaning in to kiss Chris' jaw.  "I like you looking."

Chris gasped as Zach skimmed his lips back toward his ear.  "Sorry," he whispered.  "Old habits die hard."

"Old habits?"  Zach's breath warmed Chris' neck, tickling a spot just under his ear and setting the rest of his skin on fire.  "Christopher.  How long have you been sneaking peeks?"

"How long have I known you?"

"Jesus," Zach muttered, dropping his forehead in Chris' shoulder.  For a moment it hung there between them again: all the time they'd wasted, all the chances they'd missed, that they'd _regret_ except that any other sequence of events would not have led to Nathan sleeping in the other room.  

Chris reached up and tangled his fingers in Zach's hair, turned his head to kiss Zach's cheek.  "You get to look now, too," he whispered a bit unsteadily.

"Hmmmm, that's true." Zach's voice rumbled through Chris.  "And we both have time to make up for.  Can I take these off?" he asked, fingering the waistband of Chris' sleep pants.

"Yeah."

Chris' breath hitched as Zach pulled the band toward himself, easing it over Chris’ erection.  Then they were flush against each other, chest to shin, kissing as Zach's fingers brushed over Chris spine, down to the the small of his back and just over the swell of his ass before reversing their track.  

Chris grasped at Zach's hips, just holding on as he processed all the sensations.  Zach's touch wasn't demanding, but it was possessive and exploratory and caused Chris to long for more.  He made a sound suspiciously like a whimper as Zach's fingers drifted lower on the curve of his ass before rising again, and this time Zach smiled into the kiss and pulled him closer.  

"Come on," he said against Chris' mouth, pressing a hand into the small of his back to encourage him toward the shower door.  Steam billowed from the roomy stall as they entered, and Zach backed him into the water stream, still kissing.  Hot water sluiced down his back as Zach hummed into his mouth, reaching for the soap.  Soon they were both wet and soapy, touching arms or hips or asses as they constantly shifted around each other and in and out of the stream of water, working to get clean.  Their erections flagged slightly as the smells of sweat and airplanes and sex were replaced by the clean, botanical scent of Zach’s organic imported shampoo and Chris’ beeswax soap.    But then Zach leaned back to rinse his hair, stomach taut and lean, the muscles of his arms and chest bunching as he smoothed his hands through his hair, and Chris’ cock showed definite interest again.  Because his boyfriend was fucking _beautiful_.   And he abruptly remembered that he was allowed to look — really look — _and_ touch.

He reached both hands for Zach’s waist, tracing thumbs on either side of his navel and down into the trail of hair leading down to his cock.  Zach startled upright and grinned when he saw Chris eyeing his cock.

“Well, hello.”

“Is this okay?” Chris asked, running his fingers up the tight lines of Zach’s abdominals, watching them flex as Zach’s cock began to swell before his eyes.

“Very, very, amazingly okay,” Zach said, breath hitching as he watched Chris’ hands on him.  “And what I wanted to talk about.”

“You wanted to talk about me touching you?” he asked, fingers still exploring Zach in a mostly PG-13 manner.

“In part.”  Zach drew his fingers along Chris’ arms.  “Last night was incredible…”

“But…”Chris said, looking up abruptly.

“It feels a bit surreal,” Zach said, stroking Chris’ arm reassuringly.  “I was so sleep deprived...if I hadn’t woken up in your bed, I might have thought I'd fantasized the whole thing.  As I was waking up surrounded by your scent, memories were flooding back —very pleasant memories.  But there were two things you said that… I want to clarify.”

“Okay.”  Chris wasn’t sure that he liked where this was going.

"You said that you bottoming was not off the table, but then you said you wouldn't want me bottoming for you because you wouldn't want to hurt me."  Zach's hands were on his hips now, and were _distracting_ , but his tone was serious, and he was looking for confirmation.  Chris vaguely remembered saying something along those lines, and nodded absently.  "I hope that doesn't imply that you think I'd be okay hurting you, because that's not the case."

Oh.  Had he meant that?  Not consciously, certainly.

"And you shouldn't be okay with your partner hurting you, either."  Zach's words were gentle, but there was an edge he could tell wasn't directed at him.  "If your other lover taught you that, I need you to unlearn it, okay?  I need you to tell me right away if anything I do causes pain, because that will be the opposite of my intent."  Zach smiled, nibbling at Chris' jaw.  "Well, unless we discover down the road that you like that sort of thing.  But never from actual sex.  That will never be painful, if I can help it.  Okay?"

Chris nodded, swallowing thickly.  Zach's fingers started mirroring Chris', running up and down his abs.  They were driving him mad.

"So, I want to make a proposal.  I don't have a good understanding of how much experience you had with other things before sex was bad and you decided to swear off men, and I don't need to know right now.  But I want you to feel free to explore me.  Any way, anywhere you want to touch me will be welcome.  And I would like to be free to touch you anywhere as well, but for now I'm going to limit how I touch your ass.  Until we talk about it again, I won't penetrate you, I'll just explore the surface."

Chris groaned in frustration, both because Zach's fingers needed to move lower soon, and because he didn't like the idea that Zach didn't think he could keep up with him.  "You don't have to treat me like some shrinking violet, Zach.  I'm not actually a virgin," he grumbled, embarrassed.  

"Oh, I'm aware," he said, and Chris wondered for a moment if he was imagining the rising color in Zach's cheeks.  Zach's hands reached for the shelf behind Chris as he continued.  "You realize you're the first boyfriend I've had in a really long time who is actually stronger than I am?  Who can crowd me into a wall?  I have to admit, I find it more appealing than I ever expected to."

Chris' dick lurched at the thought of Zach enjoying being manhandled a bit.

"This isn't about me handling you with kid gloves.  This is about getting you to understand that when I touch you like this," he said, slipping a slick finger between his cheeks, making Chris jump forward against his chest.  "Shhh," Zach soothed, kissing him gently, finger still probing the skin of his crack, down to his opening.  "When I touch you like this, it's not an attack, and it's not a selfish act.  I'm not just preparing you for myself—for my pleasure.  It’s for you.  A little anatomy lesson: did you know that there are more nerve endings around your anus than any part of your body except your glans.  That's why it can hurt, but also why it can feel really, _really_ good.  I want you in the moment with me, feeling my touch rather than stressing about what comes next.  I want you out of your head and just concentrating on your body, and what it's telling you."

Such a clinical description should not have been so hot, but Chris was shivering anyway, focused on the presence of Zach’s slick finger gently probing between his cheeks.  It no longer felt wrong or startling.  It still felt weird, but Zach's words were calming, despite Chris' insistence that he didn't need to be calmed.  Still, he struggled.

"I just hate that I'm so much work.  I'd be fine."

"Oh, Chris," Zach murmured against his mouth.  "This isn't work. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I was somebody's first time?  And no, we're not counting that asshole you were with ten years ago.  Every time you blush, every time you settle into my touch after being tentative or agitated, I get so hard.  Feel for yourself."  And Chris did, tracing trembling fingers down Zach's length, groaning at the thought that Zach found his inexperience arousing rather than frustrating.  Zach sighed as Chris’ fingers brushed lightly along his cock.  "Every time I think about being the first to get to show you how good it can feel, I get so hard.  Even before I knew that could really happen, even when it was just a fantasy stemming from the blushes you would flash me sometimes and how I wanted them to be for me... wanted to chase each blush down the collar of your shirt with my tongue and show you how good I could make you feel—even _then_ I would get hard as a rock.  I'm surprised you never heard _that_ through the walls."

"Oh god," Chris cried, shoulders falling forward as he arched into Zach's touch.  It was feeling less and less foreign as Zach talked, more and more like something he could understand the appeal of.  Was _feeling_ the appeal of.

Zach hummed in approval at his better access.  "Besides, when I finally enter your body for the first time, I don't want you to be 'fine' with it; I want you begging for me.  I want you so ready you welcome me."  Zach's voice was gravelly in his ear, and doing strange things — delicious squirmy things — to a spot just below his navel.  He shuddered, arching again as Zach's finger now had room enough to circle his opening.  And that felt way more erotic than he'd ever imagined.  He closed his eyes, concentrating on the sensation, his breathing becoming more and more ragged by the second.

"God, just look at you.  So fucking gorgeous like this."  He opened his eyes to find Zach staring down his body at his cock, which was painfully hard.

"Zach," he breathed into the steam.

"What do you need, baby?  Oh, careful," he said as Chris slipped on the tile, struggling to  widen his stance for balance, still shuddering from Zach’s words and touch and— "I've got you."  Chris felt a strong arm around his waist, supporting him as he shifted his feet until they were braced against the outer walls of the stall.  "Better," Zach said, shifting his hand to Chris' hip, keeping him steady.  All the while that finger was massaging his entrance, and it was nowhere near enough.  "Now, what do you need?"  he asked again, kissing at Chris' jaw.

"More."  And Chris wasn't entirely sure what he was even asking for, but he wanted Zach everywhere.

"Yes," Zach groaned.  "Brace your hands against the walls, too.  I don't want you to slip again.  

Chris scrabbled for a hand hold as Zach shifted, his finger suddenly gone and leaving Chris surprisingly bereft, missing the pressure.  

And then wet heat engulfed the head of his cock, and Chris  looked down to find Zach kneeling in front of him, gorgeous mouth stretched around his cock, eyes closed as spray from the shower formed droplets on his dark lashes.  This — he groaned and forced his eyes to not shut in pleasure — because this he had dreamed about.  Fantasized about in this very shower more often than he cared to admit.  And Zach’s mouth was even better than he’d imagined: soft and smooth and his tongue… what the hell was he doing with his tongue?  

“Zach,” he moaned, a those eyes opened, flashing darkly as they met his gaze.  And fuck, that was beautiful.  “I’m not going to last.”

Zach groaned around his cock, sliding further onto it and back again.  It was tantalizingly slow, and mesmerizing to watch himself disappear into Zach’s mouth and come back out.  And then Zach was shifting again, closing his eyes as one hand dropped between his own legs, and the other—

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Chris cried as the finger returned, this time from below.  And that was… Fuck.  That felt _good_.  More intense.  Even the feel of Zach’s tongue moving against his cock, which had felt pretty fucking good to start with, was somehow sharper.  Sharp pleasure.  Was that a thing?  Yes, it must be, because holy fucking shit this was... He was not going to last.  He focused again on Zach’s face.  Zach’s beautiful, almost angelic face with long dark lashes against pale skin and wide gorgeous lips doing fucking wicked things to his cock.  He took a shuddering breath as he watched, pressure and heat and some sort of impending seismic event building in his lower abdomen.  How was this even his life?  When did Zach’s mouth around him become a reality instead of a dream?  He carefully lowered one hand from the wall and threaded fingers into Zach’s wet hair, smoothing it off his brow.  Zach opened his eyes again, and his gaze was open and questioning and familiar and _real_ and— “I’m going to come,” Chris groaned.  Zach hummed and took him deeper, and that’s when Chris noticed the movement of Zach’s other hand on his own cock, and that sent him right over the edge.  

He came so hard his knees gave way, and he would have fallen if Zach hadn’t wrapped both arms around his thighs and held him upright.  He came back to his senses like that: with Zach’s face buried against his belly, arms clinging to him, his own hand buried in Zach’s hair and no idea how he’d remained standing.

“You okay?” Zach asked, easing back and pushing himself up on his feet.

“Yeah, here, let me,” he reached for Zach’s cock, but his hand was intercepted and Zach threaded their fingers.

“No need,” he whispered.  “I came.”

“Oh.”  Chris couldn’t help but be disappointed that he didn’t get to reciprocate.  “You sure?”

Zach huffed a laugh.  “Pretty sure, yeah.”  Zach kissed him — slowly, luxuriously — and eased him forward into the spray, rinsing them both off, front and back.  Chris was only half aware as Zach moved him around, shut off the water, wrapped him in a towel.

They fell back into Chris’ bed, which wasn’t as clean as they were, but it didn’t matter, bliss and lethargy were making their limbs heavy and tangled.  Zach wrapped his arms around Chris and pulled him in, until his face was snuggled into Zach’s neck.  Chris' mind felt like mush... really happy mush, but still.  And he was pretty sure there were things he needed to say to Zach — he could practically feel the expectant tension in Zach's finger as it stroked up and down his spine.  Just... words were slow to form on his tongue.  

"Mmmm...Zach?"

The finger stilled.  "Yeah?"

"You can officially touch me like that any time you want."

"Yeah?" It was a relieved huff of a word, and as the finger started moving again, he felt Zach shift to kiss his head.  "Good.  Any time, huh?"  

"Well, maybe not when we're in public or visiting our folks, but otherwise..."  He paused for a moment.  There was something else. "Sorry I didn't make you come."

That elicited a stronger laugh.  "Chris, you looked straight in my eyes, groaned my name and came down my throat.  I assure you, that had everything to do with my orgasm."

Had he really said Zach's name?  He didn't remember that, but he wasn't surprised.  He was pretty sure he'd said Zach's name with every orgasm for months now. "Yeah, but I barely touched you.  And I do actually know how to give a blowjob.  Assuming it's like riding a bike."

Zach wrapped his arms around Chris back and held him tightly.  "I look forward to sampling your mad skills after a nap."

"Are you teasing me?" Chris asked, raising his head to look at Zach's face.

"Not even a little.  I've dreamt about your mouth even longer than I've fantasized about your absolutely perfect ass."

Oh.  Chris lowered his head and bit back a shy grin.

"Oh god, you're blushing again, aren't you?"

"No."  He pressed his face against Zach's chest.

Zach just laughed and threaded his fingers in Chris hair, tipping Chris' head back and kissing him.  "God, you're so perfect.  Okay, naptime, before anything—"

A small whimper sounded from the baby monitor on the nightstand, and Zach whined.

Chris laughed and kissed his chest, shifting so he was half on top of Zach, resting his chin on the back of his hand.  There was a chance Nathan would fall back to sleep, but he had been down a while.  Zach watched his face and traced a finger along his temple as they both silently listened to the monitor, awaiting their fate.  When the whimpering grew louder Zach let out a resigned groan and let his arm flop to the mattress.

"At least his timing is getting better," Chris said with a laugh.

"There's that," Zach agreed, kissing him.  "You can sleep if you want."

"Nah, I'm too happy.  And I missed you both.  I want to spend the day with my boys.  I'm all for staying in PJs and not leaving the house, though."

"And making some phone calls?" Zach asked, biting his lip.

"Yeah.  And when you call your mom, do it on speaker.  I want to listen."

Zach mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "such an ass" as he padded down the hall, but his tone implied that this, too, was a term of endearment.

"Yeah, but I'm _your_ ass," he called after Zach.  With another stupidly happy grin on his face, he softly added, "In more ways than one."


	14. Day 65, 6:15 p.m.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay this chapter. The good news is I'm now ahead, and the next chapter is also almost ready.

Chris downshifted and switched lanes, trying to not  be a lead footed asshole.  He probably shouldn’t be driving.  Or he should probably have driven straight to the gym. But the idea of facing the general public, even the small sliver of it that belonged to the gym, was just more than he could bear right now.

Of course, facing Zach when he was still this upset wasn’t a great idea either.

So he was taking a scenic route home, winding through hills and residential streets on the edge of the Los Angeles basin until he was forced to drop back down onto the freeway and head south to Silver Lake.

He changed lanes again, checking the rearview mirror and glimpsing the top of Nathan’s car seat — his _empty_ car seat, thank god, or Chris would really just have to pull over and take some deep breaths and pull his shit together.  Which is probably what he should do anyway, but he did want to get home sometime today.  Before dinner.  

But just seeing the car seat helped him find his perspective.  Because Zach and Nathan would be waiting for him, and really, that was worth putting up with a lot of bullshit.

He took a deep breath, slowed the car to just a bit over the speed limit, and took stock of his life.  And it was mostly awesome.  Now that he and Zach were on the same page, things were great.  There was much less secret-in-the-shower-selflove and more mutual hand jobs and blow jobs and pretty much _all_ the jobs that involved them breathing each others’ air while coming hard enough to see stars.  Seriously.  He couldn’t think of the last time he’d spent so many weeks feeling so very well fucked — especially considering that no one was _actually_ getting fucked.  

True to his word, Zach was exploring things slowly, and Chris was discovering he had nerve endings  in places he’d never dreamed of.  Zach was a sensualist, and a perfectionist, and wringing sensations out of Chris’ body that no lover had managed before.  And Chris was learning Zach’s body as well.  Not just with sexual touches, but all sorts.  Chris was a tactile guy, and now that Zach was open to it, he was learning what sort of touch made Zach sigh and lean into him, or snuggle on the couch.  If Chris had thought Zach was a cuddler when they were just friends, that was nothing to what he was like now.  As soon as Nathan was down for the evening, they were on the sofa, somehow touching through their evening.  If they were working, he and Zach each sat cross-legged on the sofa, knees bumping as they balanced laptops and typed.  If reading, they leaned on opposite arms on the sofa, legs tangled in the middle.  Zach’s hand invariably found Chris’ ankle and slowly distracted him to the point of setting his book and reading glasses aside and crawling across the couch to kiss him and tell him it was time for bed.  If they were watching a movie, one would be sprawled on the other, cheek to chest with legs tangled and fingers memorizing the curves of a spine or biceps.  And it was...god it was so perfect.  Their little bubble of home.  

Chris crested over a hill and headed back down toward the valley floor.  The sky was shifting to oranges and pinks, silhouetting the palm trees and eucalyptus and making it clear where Dr. Seuss had drawn inspiration for his fanciful world.  LA frequently felt like a fantastical, illusory place.  A strange little world to wander, like Alice — just drive and observe the absurdity.  Once, when he’d needed to blow off steam after a meeting, he’d driven for hours.  All the way to Joshua Tree.  But he couldn’t do that now.   His home felt _real_ now.  Solid.  And though it still seemed a little strange to think it, there was someone at home who would notice he was late.  Maybe even worry.  He didn’t want Zach to worry — about his tardiness, or his frustration with that meeting.  He was hoping by being just a little late, he could calm down enough to minimize one worry without creating the other.  Better to be a little late and get that under control.  Zach was dealing with enough.  He didn’t need Chris’ little disappointments to deal with.

Yes, their bubble of home was perfect.  They were settling into this new reality between them, growing comfortable with it, and slowly letting people in, a few at a time.  Telling their families had gone well.  Margo had only been a _little_ smug.  His own mom had been relieved to finally know (rather than suspect) and immediately claimed rank as honorary grandma with babysitting and clothes buying privileges.  It meant that Nathan was even more well-dressed than he had been before.  Zach and Gwynne had bonding-over-clothes time while he and his dad looked on  bewildered.  And it meant that he and Zach could actually schedule four hours alone when they knew they wouldn’t be interrupted.  Gwynne thought they were going on dates, but so far they hadn’t left the bedroom.  Katie had just given Zach a hug and whispered something Chris couldn’t hear and could _not_ get out of either one of them, despite multiple attempts over days.  Joe had picked up a camera and started shooting, making sure he got pictures of Chris holding Nathan and Zach kissing Chris.

Telling friends had gone less well, but still better than he had expected.  Zoe had reacted the best, squealing and inviting all three of them over for dinner and adoring Nathan and loving both her friends just as fiercely as she ever had.  Kristen was happy, but Chris could sense a hesitancy, like she was waiting until Chris proved himself worthy in the long run.  Zach had been talking with her since they came back from Pittsburgh, so she knew how he’d dropped everything to help Zach.  She just didn’t seem to quite trust this new role for him, as if it were a role and not a life-altering event.  But Chris actually liked that Zach had such a protective friend.  He felt sure he could win her over.  Corey and Neal, Zach’s Before the Door partners and oldest friends, he’d somehow managed to win over already. They had invited them out to dinner with Nathan, which Chris assumed was going to be a complete disaster on several fronts.  But the baby had been happy and spent much of his time in Chris’ arms, Zach had been comfortable and affectionate with both Chris and Nathan, and pretty soon Corey and Neal were relaxed and telling stories about Zach’s youth and conspiring with Chris to get Zach out of the house at least twice a month.  At the end of the evening he’d gotten hugs from both of them, and spied Corey saying something to Zach that made him glance at Chris and smile, nodding.  When he asked later, Zach wouldn’t elaborate and just said his friends thought they fit together well.  They also wanted to see if Chris’ bragging about his grill skills was merited, so they were planning a barbecue at Chris' house in the near future.

Cho had just laughed, and then invited them to the park with the kids.  They still hadn’t managed that, but they didn’t know that many dads and looked forward to wresting every bit of information out of him.  A few of Chris’ friends had seemed shocked and like they wanted off the phone.  A few others hadn’t seemed shocked at all and said that they looked forward to meeting Zach next time they got together.  LA was at once very liberal and very old fashioned, and he saw the breadth of reactions, though most of his friends were of the more liberal end of the spectrum.  

And beyond friends.  Well, he’d gotten a taste of that today, hadn’t he?

He wound down to the freeway, and within another twenty minutes he was pulling up to the gate and entering the code.  He took a deep breath as he parked the car and entered the house, putting on his best smile as Zach came in from Nathan’s room.

“Hey, baby.”  Zach said, kissing him soundly and then holding Nathan up to him.  Chris set his bag down and took the baby, already feeling his tension dissolve.  Mostly.

“Hey.”  Chris kissed Zach back.  And this.  This was worth anything.  He kissed the top of Nathan's head, brushing his nose through through the wispy hair that was getting longer by the day.  He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of baby-head-scent, and sighed.

"What happened?"

Chris opened his eyes to find Zach watching him carefully.

"Who said anything happened?"

Zach actually snorted.  "Nice try.  C'mon.  Dinner's been ready for an hour.  I'll try again when you're blissed out in a food coma."

They went to the dining room, Zach waving off Chris' apologies and pouring large glasses of wine as Chris secured Nathan in the swing next to the table.  He gave Nathan a pacifier and pushed the button for the swing's second highest setting: the one that entertained Nate until it magically lulled him to sleep.

"This looks great," Chris said, eyeing the lasagna and wondering what had spurred Zach to cook when he was alone with the baby.  "I thought we were ordering in Thai."

Zach shrugged as he took a bite, and Chris could see the nervousness under Zach's attempt at nonchalance.  

Chris tried a bite and hummed his pleasure, making Zach grin into his wine.  He really was hungry.  That might have had something to do with his mood that afternoon.

"Tell you what," Zach said.  "Finish your wine and your lasagna, and then we'll each share our news.  I'll even go first."

"You're trying to butter me up with alcohol and carbs, aren't you?"  Zach just flashed his eyebrows, smirking as he chewed.  But his gaze was serious enough that Chris nodded his agreement.  Zach knew him too well not to pick up when something was bothering him.  Trying to hide it would just make it seem worse than it was.  And something was obviously on Zach’s mind as well.

They talked about safe subjects as they ate: Nathan’s day, shopping lists, the fact that Nathan was outgrowing not only the newborn onesies, but also the three-month onesies, and how the sizing was _completely_ random, because Nathan was not too big for a two-month-old.  When the food was gone, Zach refilled their wine glasses, and Chris began to really worry about what Zach needed to tell him.  

Zach was smiling at Nathan, sleeping in his swing and wearing his “The Dog Did It” t-shirt.  Chris sat back in his chair, watching them both.

“La La Ling called,” Zach said, looking back up at him.  “Left a message, actually.”

“The baby store?”

“Yeah.  The crib and dresser we special ordered a when we first came back?  They’re in now.  They want to arrange delivery.”

Oh.   _Oh._

Chris sat up a bit straighter and took a sip of wine, stalling as his mind fractured on that information and the implications.  Nathan’s furniture.  For Nathan’s nursery.  In Zach’s house.  His stomach filled with lead.

He cleared his throat, trying to sort out where this was going.  “What did you tell them?”  Was Zach still assuming he was moving back to his house when it was ready?   Was it possible they weren’t as much on the same page as he’d thought?

“I haven’t called them back yet.  I wanted to talk with you first.  A lot’s changed since we made that plan.”

That was hopeful.  Still, best to get the worst case scenario out of the way first.  “Do you… do you want to move to your place?  I mean, you _have_ put a lot of effort into making it nice again.”

Zach shook his head slightly, not enough to mean ‘no’, more like he was contemplating.  “I just want us to talk together about the options.  When Nathan and I moved in, the intent was that we were just crashing for a while.  I don’t want us crowding you or overstaying our welcome. It doesn’t have anything to do with us,” he clarified, waving his wine glass between himself Chris.  “Most boyfriends don’t live together right away.  You and I... we’ve sort of done everything in the wrong order.  Not completely.  We were friends first.  Really good friends.  But then… we had a baby, moved in together, and became boyfriends.  Which is exactly the _opposite_ of how these things are normally done.”  He was smiling, and when he said it like that, even Chris had to huff a chuckle.  He still felt nervous, but that icy dread was starting to dissipate.  “It seems like everything moved so fast, and it’s working — it’s been working — but we’ve fallen into it.  When we started, we didn’t decide to be partners raising a child together.  And now…”

“That’s how it feels,” Chris finished.  And really from the outside, it must look ridiculous, but from the inside…

“Yeah,” Zach said, licking his lips thoughtfully.  “But we didn’t choose that, and things still feel like we’re in limbo.  And there’s another option.  The house is ready.  Has been for more than a week, actually.  Nathan and I could move there, and you and I could have a real courtship with dates and — I don’t know: candy and flowers.”  Chris scrunched his nose in amusement.  “If that’s what we wanted.  We could slow this whole ship down and savor it more.  You could have a bit more space when everything hits the news outlets.  If that’s what you want.”  And that’s when Chris noticed.  The little nervous light in Zach’s eyes, the twitch in his cheek that made Chris suspect he didn’t want to have this conversation, he was doing what he thought he needed to.  

Chris took another long drink of wine.  “What do you want?”

Zach just gave him a sad smile.  “Chris, you’ve been doing what you thought I wanted or needed since I called you from Pittsburgh at three in the morning.  I want what _you_ want.  I want whatever is going to make _this_ ,” he waved his hand between them, leaning forward, “work long term.  And if that means sticking to the plan we made, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Chris leaned forward,  removed Zach’s wine glass from his hand, and laced their fingers together.  He licked his lips, looking at their entwined hands, and thinking of all the things he’s wanted to tell Zach for weeks.  All the promises that have been on the tip of his tongue.  All the admissions.

What came out instead was, “Have you read any Barbara Kingsolver?”

Zach blinked in confusion and then laughed, squeezing his hand.  “I’m sorry, what?”

“I have a point, I promise.”

“English geek,” Zach said, affection clear in his voice.  “No, I haven’t.  Should I?”

“She’s a contemporary _American_ author, not English.  In one of her books she writes: ‘The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof.’  

“That’s what this feels like.  Like I finally — _finally_ — know what to hope for, and I’m owning it.  Living in it.  Running down the hall with my arms out, touching the walls on both sides.  Breathing it in every time I wake up with my nose buried in the nape of your neck.  You know that first day?  After we finally got out of bed and you unpacked all those suitcases and we folded baby clothes for hours.  And that night I found you hovering in the hallway, not knowing where you should sleep?”

Zach nodded, biting his lip, eyes shining.

“I don’t want you ever wondering that again.  And you’re right.  We did fall into this, but we’ve never really behaved how we were supposed to with each other.” Zach snorted a laugh.  “And it does still feel like limbo.”  Chris paused, thinking about this from Zach’s point of view.  His place may have some appeal just because it’s _his_.  Crashing at a friend’s house and living somewhere were not the same.  “So… so I want to ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“Zach, will you move in with me?”

“I already live with you.” Zach smiled.

“Yeah, but will you _move in_?  Bring your books and your CDs and art and everything, and we’ll move things around until it all fits together. And we’ll put the bed you were using in the back room by the gym, so we can make your old room Nathan’s.  And, I don’t know, paint and move furniture or whatever it takes to make it feel like your home, too.”

Zach’s dimple was showing as he bit at his lower lip.  “I could use my house as the offices for Before the Door.  Put all that remodeling to good use.   But, you’re sure?  I was trying to be good and not take over your entire life.”  

“I like you in my entire life.  And I’m sure, but if you actually need to move back to your place for a while—”

“No.  I don’t want to.  I want to see my art hanging next to yours in the living room, even though the colors will probably clash.  And I want my reading chair by the window overlooking the garden, and I want Nathan to grow up playing in your ‘orchard’ instead of on my patio.”

“I heard those air-quotes,” Chris said.  Zach smiled, caught out.  They were both grinning at each other like idiots, and it was fantastic.  “So…” Chris continued, “we’ll have the crib delivered here?”

“Yeah, and if I’m bringing all my books, we’ll need to buy more bookshelves.”

“I can definitely live with that.”

Zach visibly relaxed, pulled their entwined hands to his mouth and kissed Chris’ fingers.  “I can’t believe you knew that whole quote by heart.”

“We memorize words for a living,” Chris said, stroking Zach’s fingers with his thumb, shivering as Zach’s lips brushed his fingers again.  “You think a short little excerpt from a book is going to give me trouble?  Besides, I’ve been thinking about that quote a lot lately.”

“It’s a good one.  We should embroider it on a pillow or something.”

Chris snorted.  “We’ll have a plaque made for the gate.”

“Oh, that’s much more grandiose,” Zach said, nodding his approval.  He disentangled his fingers to pour more wine and take a sip.  “So what had you so upset when you got home.  You were meeting Karen, right?  Did that movie not work out?”

“The one Evans had me read for?  They’re still deciding.  No, it wasn’t that.  It’s Paramount.”

“What?  But we had the lawyers look at that contract.  They can’t do anything.”

“Karen and Bill, my lawyer, have been going over everything.  Karen says the studio may not be able to fire me, but they can show their... displeasure.  She’s seen it before.  They think they’re going to take a financial hit if the two main leads are, and I quote, ‘a couple of fags.’  They can’t fire me outright, but they can try to make me leave.”

“And what?  Recast Kirk?” Zach asked incredulously.  “And did they actually say that to you?”

“Their rep said it to her, sort of under his breath.  I wasn’t supposed to hear it, except obviously I would, since he said it to her.   She’s just trying to get me to gird my loins so I know what we’re up against and don’t do anything stupid in the meeting, like tell him to fuck off.  As far as Kirk goes, apparently any of the blond muscle-bound Chrises would do.  Except Hemsworth, since he already played George.  But they see recasting as an option, or at least claim to.  Karen thinks they could also try to shrink the role enough that they could lower the amount they pay me legally — get Kirk captured by Klingons in the first third and have the crew rescue him at the end, something like that.  Anything to minimize the time we’re on camera together and to keep the audience from thinking about us kissing instead of you and Zoe.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Chris shrugged.  “I won’t know exactly what they’re thinking until day after next when we meet at the studio.  Karen’s just trying to prepare me for the worst.  She also said that she hopes my male ego isn’t horribly tied up in the size of my trailer.”

Zach looked horrified.

“If I weren’t already so invested I could just walk away, like I did with that other film.  But I can’t walk away from Kirk.”

“Of course not!”

“So, I’m just going to tell them that they can’t bully me.  You know?  Honestly, I don’t care if they try to punish me for being who I am by giving me a small trailer or putting it further away from the sound stage than the other ones.  They’re just being childish, and if I cared about that sort of thing, I’d be just as bad.  And in their defense, there are parts of the country where they may take a hit once we go public.”

“I don’t know.  It seems like the crowd that likes Star Trek is still going to come see it, regardless of whether we’re together, and if the OUT crowd got word, we may have a whole new audience.  But honestly, I think most people won’t care.  Hollywood is just so damned conservative.  So concerned about money over integrity.”

“The point is,” Chris said, not wanting to get into a New York versus Los Angeles debate, “you and Nathan are worth any role.  And they can’t actually take Kirk from me, they can just try to make me not want it.  And if I just stand up to them, show them that I’ll fight for you guys and for Kirk, and they can do whatever childish shit they want and I’ll outlast them, they’ll eventually ease up.  They’re just all in a tizzy right now.  What bothers me, other than the shit attitude and the idea that I should be ashamed of you, is that they’re willing to mess with _Kirk_.  That character’s been around for fifty years.  Are they really so petty they would mess with him — more than they already have — just to get at me?  I feel like I have this responsibility to protect him.   _And_ to protect us. And I just can’t see how to do both.”

Zach took his hands again.  “You’re being way more zen about this than I would have expected.  I’m fuming.  I want to go all ACLU on their asses.  They didn’t pull any of this shit when I came out.”

“Well, you were just one.  And Spock isn’t their red-blooded American womanizer — not that Kirk should be, but that’s a different issue.  And you kiss a girl onscreen.  Me coming out too, as bisexual?  That’s just breaking their little brains.  But it doesn’t matter.”

“It really does.”

“No.  Because you just agreed to move in with me.  And for the record, I was _not_ all zen when I left that meeting.  My transmission can attest to that.  But homemade lasagna and wine and the best boyfriend ever helped me find my center.  Plus, the motion of the swing is very calming.”

Zach snorted, shaking his head.  “You’re really okay?  Because I’m not okay.  You won’t resent me for this?”

“Zach.”  He took Zach’s hands in his again, kissing his fingers.  “You aren’t doing this to me.  You’re the one who makes it worth putting up with their bullshit.  Don’t worry.  I got this.  Karen’s going to make sure my lawyer is there and all up to date on the option language, and we’re not going to let them get away with anything we can prevent.  And anything else… well, I’ll just deal with it and kiss you on set and let them feel their powerlessness.   It’ll be good for them.  It’s Kirk I want to protect.  Help me figure that out.  The rest is just irritating, but we’ll show them a united front and they won’t know what hit them.  They think Kirk and Spock make a good team?  Wait ‘til they see Quinto and Pine.  Quine.”  No, that was bad.  “Zais?”

“Jesus, don’t hurt yourself,” Zach said, rolling his eyes.  “Come on, let’s clean up.  We can brainstorm more over cannoli in the living room.”

“You made cannoli, too?”

Zach lowered his eyes and bit back a smile, looking completely adorable.  “Nonna’s recipes may have gotten a workout tonight.  I really didn’t want to move out.”

Chris stood, pulling Zach close.  “So, you thought the way to my heart might be through my stomach?” he asked, kissing him softly.

“Well, I _have_ met you.”

Chris laughed.  “Well, I’ll tell you a secret.  The lasagna was delicious and you’re welcome to make it any time you like, but I would have asked you to stay even if you’d ordered in Thai.”

“Hmmmm, good to know,” he said, kissing Chris.  “I suppose I can just toss the cannoli, then?  Bad for our figures.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“No,” he said grinning,  “In addition to the look of abject horror on your face, Nonna would come back from the grave and haunt my skinny ass.  I’m afraid we’re going to have to eat them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you not from the US, the ACLU (American Civil Liberties Union) is an activist group charged with protecting individual's freedoms and rights, often by suing governments or corporations (https://www.aclu.org/). My European beta didn't know the acronym, and suggested I explain it.


	15. Day 65, 9:45 p.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris had no idea...

Two hours later, everything was cleaned up, Nathan was fed and dressed for bed, and they were sprawled out on the sofa — Zach on his back, Chris half on top of him with his head on his chest — watching Blue is The Warmest Color.  Which Chris had heard great things about and really wanted to like, but he was much more interested in the way Zach’s fingers were skimming over the swell of his ass, pressing a little when they got to the top of his thigh, pulling his cheeks apart ever so slightly before tracing back up again to the small of his back.  It was delicious and distracting and made Chris want those fingers everywhere.  But Zach was just keeping the same path, either because he really was doing it unconsciously while he watched the movie, or he was a gentleman, or he was a fucking tease.  Whatever the case, Chris was nearly to the point where he didn’t care at all who that blue-haired girl was, and just wanted Zach to pull him into a straddle and play with his opening… which was something he couldn’t have imagined wanting just mere weeks ago.

He hitched his knee up and across Zach’s legs as those teasing fingers descended again, hoping they would take a little detour.  Zach froze, and Chris listened to his breathing as he waited.

“Is that an invitation?”  Zach’s voice rumbled softly through his chest.

“Yeah.”  Chris hitched his leg a little more, and Zach hooked fingers under his knee with his other hand, spreading him wider.  “You’re driving me fucking crazy,” Chris whispered, rolling his hips slightly so Zach would feel his erection against his hip.  Zach’s hand was now cupping one cheek, fingers spreading him and moving toward his entrance.  When they got there, pressing the soft jersey of his sleep pants against the skin of his crack, Chris groaned, shifting up so he could kiss Zach.  Zach’s hand was quickly under the fabric, dry finger against his opening, making him gasp into Zach’s mouth and buck against him.  And he just needed more.

“Take these off,” Zach said, whether because Chris had said something out loud or his ESP was getting better, Chris wasn't sure.  He was up in a flash, removing his pants and then straddling Zach again.  And now Zach’s finger was wet and slick and Chris couldn’t help but push back into the touch, still wanting more, kissing Zach hard and arching.  “Easy, easy,” Zach whispered.

“No.  I need… push inside.”

Zach froze again, but Chris kept kissing and rocking against him, Zach grabbed his ass hard with one hand, threading the other into his hair and pulling him closer, kissing him roughly.  “Bed.  Now.”

“But—”

“We need lube, if we’re doing this.  Lots of lube.”

Chris’ brain stuttered for a moment as those words hit him, but he quickly recovered.  Because Zach’s spit-slick finger had felt really good.  And if Zach wanted him on the bed, then… that must be a good plan.

They scrambled to the bedroom, barely remembering to shut off the TV and lights.  Chris stopped when he got to the bed, and Zach came up behind him, kissing his shoulder and placing a hand on his hip.  

“On your back, baby.  I want to be able to see you.”

Chris pulled down the covers and got into the bed, anticipation warring with nerves.  

“Hey.”  Zach’s voice was calm, and Chris looked up to see that he’d stripped off his pants and was holding the bottle of lube.  “If you change your mind it’s okay.  Everything I’ve ever said is still true.”

“Just get over here,” Chris said, his voice more rough than he expected.  “You drive me so crazy sometimes I don’t know what I want, I just know I want it.”  

“Well, let’s see if we can’t figure out what it is so I can give it to you.”  Zach blushed and laughed.  “Sorry, that sounded—”

“No more talking for a while,” Chris agreed, pulling him down for a kiss.

Soon he was over his nerves again, trying to figure out how to spread himself wider so Zach’s lube-drenched finger could circle his entrance at will.  Zach was kissing down his body, nipping at his hip and sucking a hickey just above his waistline, and Chris writhed beneath him.  He was teasing, as he had done several times times before, but this time Chris wasn’t content to catalog all the feelings, all his responses.

“Zach…” he whined.

He felt Zach shift again, and then lick up his cock, finger still pressing against his entrance.  Chris sighed and groaned, because that felt good.   _Really_ good.  Almost what he wanted.  He hitched one leg up higher hoping Zach would understand.  The finger was gone for a moment, and then it was back, slicker and circling, and he rocked his hips toward it.  Zach’s mouth engulfed the head of his cock, finger still circling, though pressing harder.

“Zach, now.  I need—”

Zach’s finger slipped in, just barely.  Just enough to cause a stretch and a feeling of intrusion and nerves firing, and oh god... oh _god!_ Everything felt so intense.  And good.  “Oh, god.”  So _good_.  Chris stared at the ceiling as Zach pushed deeper, another stretch and burn but not really pain.  And then it was moving slowly, rhythmically in and out, dragging against his opening as he clawed at the sheets, and that… Chris wasn’t going to last long.  He was pretty sure he’d never made these particular noises before, and he was _absolutely_ sure this was the most intense blowjob he’d ever received.  Zach maintained a slow but relentless rhythm that had Chris crawling out of his skin, and then he shifted his finger—

“Holy shit, what was that?” Chris cried, bucking into Zach’s mouth and nearly coming.  

Zach slid his mouth of Chris’ cock.  “That was your prostate,” he said, stroking in again and smiling as Chris arched halfway off the bed.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”  And if this was what he’d been missing all these years, he’d made a very _serious_ error in judgement.  Zach’s mouth was around his dick again and his finger was stroking that spot gently but insistently, and he could already feeling himself start to spiral.

He lowered a hand to Zach’s hair and pulled on his head.  “Stop.  Oh, god, stop.”

Zach froze.  “Am I hurting you?” he asked, after he’d released Chris’ cock.  His finger was pulling out slowly and making Chris shiver.  

“No, god.”  He put both hands in his hair and tried to steady his breathing as the friction of Zach’s finger leaving his body drove him crazy.  “I just don’t want to come yet.  It feels so good, Zach.  I had no idea.”  

Zack kissed his cock and pressed his finger to his entrance again before removing it and climbing back up Chris’ body, kissing as he went: stomach, chest, neck, jaw...

“You did so well,” Zach praised as he kissed his lips.  “You liked it?”

“So much,” Chris said into Zach’s mouth.  “And I want you doing it to me again in a few minutes, but it was going to be over too quickly.”

“It’s okay.”  Zach kissed him, drawing his lower lip between his teeth.  “It would have been fine, but I like savoring things, so catch your breath.”  Chris could feel the heat of Zach’s body hovering over him.  He looked up to see Zach biting his lip.

"Will you do it for me?” Zach asked.

“You want… my finger?”

Zach smiled.  “To start with, at least.  It’s been a long time since I had anyone in me, but I really want to feel you.”

And this he’d never done before, but he wanted to make Zach feel good.  “Tell me what to do.”

It was so fucking hot to have Zach kneeling above him, legs spread.   He reached down between them with a lube-slicked finger and watched Zach’s face go slack with pleasure as he pressed in.  Zach cried out when Chris found his prostate.  God, his face was just beautiful.

“Another finger,” Zach whispered.

“You sure?”

He nodded.  “More lube and another finger.  I want you deeper.”

Chris watched his face carefully as he slipped the second finger beside the first, and if there was any pain in his expression it was gone by the second stroke.

“Oh, god, that’s so good.”   Chris tried to maintain the slow steady rhythm that Zach had used on him, brushing the prostate every other thrust.  “Tell me what you’re feeling,” Zach whispered.

He’d been so wrapped up in watching Zach’s reactions that he hadn’t been focusing on his own.  He pushed into Zach again, really thinking about what he was feeling.  “Fuck, Zach, you’re so hot and tight.  It feels so good sliding into you and have you almost grip at me.”

Zach choked on a moan, and then leaned down and kissed him.  “Think of how good it would feel around your cock,” he whispered.

Jesus!  Chris closed his eyes as a frisson of excitement shot up his spine.  “You want that?”

“Yeah.  I want you.  Deep.  Is that okay?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Good.”  Zach kissed him again.  “Stay right here.”

Zach eased himself up off Chris’ fingers and reached into the nightstand drawer for clean towels and a condom.  Then his mouth was on Chris again, sucking at him a few times before rolling the condom on and slicking it with lube.  And then he was back in position, straddling Chris’ hips and looking down at him with an expression so open it made Chris’ chest tight.  

“Do you need me to open you up some more?”

“No,” he whispered.  “You ready?”  

Chris nodded. Zach took a breath, and then heat engulfed the head of Chris' cock and short-circuited his brain for a moment.

"Jesus fuck that's good!" he cried, struggling not to move as Zach slowly pressed himself down.  Zach's face was a picture of concentration: eyes closed and focused inward as he felt himself filled, brows furrowing as he breathed through the stretch, until he was pressed against Chris' lap.  Chris stroked Zach's thighs, trying to comfort, watching carefully as the creases in Zach's brow smoothed and his face relaxed.  

"Okay?" he asked, running his hands along Zach's thighs and over his hips and abdomen and then back. He couldn't help touching. Zach was so gorgeous like this, spread and open, muscles taut as he slowly raised himself again.  

Zach opened his eyes and smiled at Chris.  "Yeah.  You're big."

"Sorry?" Chris froze, hoping he wasn't hurting Zach.  

Zach shook his head.  "It's good.  Normally, you have to sort of play with angles before you get it right to hit a prostate, but—"

He watched Zach's face twist in pleasure as he raised himself and then started down again.

"I'm already hitting it?"

Zach huffed a laugh and nodded, closing his eyes again.  

"Beginner's luck," Chris whispered, rolling his hips experimentally, smiling as Zach swore and threw his head back, clearly feeling good.  This was so much better than he'd expected.  He'd known it would feel good to him.  But it was even hotter and tighter and more delicious than he'd imagined.  And he hadn't realized it would feel this good to _Zach_.  That he'd be so lost in feeling that he would forget his mission to teach Chris.  And Chris  enjoyed all their lessons, but he _loved_ knowing that Zach was too far out of his head to remember them at this particular moment.  He grasped Zach's thighs so he had better leverage and rolled his hips again.  

"Fuck, Chris, that's so good."  Zach's voice was rough and his breathing was harsh.  "Harder.  God, please just a little harder."  And that was definitely something Chris could comply with.  He braced his heels on the mattress and snapped his hips up, and Zach tried to help, tried to find Chris' new rhythm and match.  "Yes!  God, just like that, just like that."

"So.  Fucking.  Gorgeous." Chris said as he thrust, and Zach opened his eyes again almost in disbelief.  "Touch yourself, Zach."

"I don't think I'll need to."

And fuck, that was _fantastic_ , but— "I'm not going to last long enough to test that theory today.  You feel too fucking amazing; look too fucking beautiful.  Show me, Zach.  Let me see you stroke yourself."

Zach choked on a sob as he wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly started working himself over.

"Shhh," Chris soothed, rubbing his thumb over Zach's hip as he continued to press up into him.  "I've got you."

Zach smiled to have his own words turned back on him.  And if Chris thought he’d looked gorgeous before, pairing this wanton, sexy version of Zach with his shy dimple and downturned lashes was almost enough to make Chris come.  “You really do,” Zach whispered, meeting his eyes, the heat and desire and emotion there mirroring everything that Chris was feeling.   

And that was it.  Zach groaned and came, splashing hot come across Chris' chest, which might have been enough to set Chris off anyway, but Zach was also clenching around his cock, and _that_ drove Chris wild, made him snap his hips hard and follow Zach over an edge of oblivion he was fairly certain he'd never visited before.  

When he returned to senses, Zach was still straddling him, still wrapped around his cock, but he'd fallen forward on his hands anchored on either side of Chris' head.  They were both still catching their breath, but Zach got this gleam in his eye as he looked Chris over.  Chris looked down his own body to see what had caught his attention, then let his head fall back on the pillow, laughing.

"I look like a Jackson Pollock painting."

Zach snorted and tipped his head appraisingly.  "My jizz isn't that colorful.  You look good, though," he said, flashing his eyebrows.

Chris barked a laugh.  "Possessive, much?"

"You have no idea.  I've been reining it in around you so far, but I have to admit, this does something for me."

"Me, too," Chris said, rolling his hips slightly and smiling as Zach gasped and then grinned.  

"Watch it," Zach chastised.

"Oh, I have been. You're gorgeous," he said reaching up for Zach's face with his clean hand.

Zach smile softened, and his eyes grew serious.  "So, it was good?”

“You couldn’t tell?”

Zach tilted his head, looking almost Spock-like in his consideration.  “Good in the moment isn’t the same as good in the afterglow with your cock still up my ass.”

“Crude,” Chris whispered, threading his fingers into Zach’s hair and wrapping them around the back of his head.  “Come here.”  

Zach let himself be pulled down into a kiss.

“Are you waiting for me to have some big gay freakout?”

“No,” Zach protested.  “Maybe.  You did swear off men the last time you tried something like this.”

Chris stroked his thumb along Zach’s cheekbone and eyebrow.  “I’ve never tried anything like this before.  And I’d do it again right now, but my recovery time isn’t what it used to be.”  Zach smiled.  “And you don’t have to, you know.”

“Don’t have to what?”

“Rein it in.  You said you like that I’m strong enough to push you against a wall?  Well, I like that you’re a little possessive.  You always have been.  Even before we were together.  I’ve always liked it, and I like it even more now.  Your hand in the small of my back.  The bruises you suck on my skin at my waistline, where I feel them at odd times during the day as my clothes shift over them.”  Zach blushed, as if he hadn’t realized Chris knew he did that on purpose.  “I like it,” he whispered, pulling Zach down into another kiss.

Zach hummed into the kiss.  “Good.  God, you always… you surprise me.  It shouldn’t anymore, but I keep waiting for some way we don’t fit, and it keeps not happening.  I’m… I’m really happy.”

Chris grinned and kissed him harder, but Zach winced.  “Hmmm,” Chris hummed softly, trying to soothe Zach by rubbing his hip. “Speaking of ‘fit’,” he added, shifting slightly.

“Yeah, maybe it’s time to take a shower, before we’re stuck like this.”

“You okay?” Chris knew he hadn’t hurt him during the sex, but as Zach had said, that feeling could shift in the aftermath.

“I’m fine, but yeah, time to uh, start undocking procedures.”

“Dork,” Chris chuckled as he helped Zach ease off of him.  He fell to Chris’s side.  “Come on.  Let’s shower and you can show me how to help take care of you.”

Zach gave him a tired smile.  He looked like he’d rather stay put, but they both preferred going to sleep clean.  Chris tugged on his hand to rally him.  

“Yeah, okay,” Zach mumbled.  “But you might have to walk me around like a marionette.”

“Good thing I’m so strong.”

They showered and fell into bed again, sleeping soundly when they weren’t taking shifts with Nathan.  The next day, Nathan was taken out by the new nanny they’d hired two days a week so that Zach could slowly start working on Before the Door projects again.  Zach decided to spend the day at his house setting up the offices and bringing back a car-load of boxes at the end of the day.  With Nathan gone too, Chris found himself rattling around in an empty home for the first time since Zach’s New York trip.

So, of course, Chris fretted.  

At least he was fretting about the meeting the next day and not about Zach.  Whenever he thought about _Zach_ he got a dopey grin on his face.  Which was probably also not going to go down well during the meeting.

He spent the day preparing for the meeting.   He talked to his lawyer, who assured him that he was freshly familiar with Chris’ option language and ready to counter and deal with anything Paramount tried to pull.  He talked to his agent, and his PR people, and then when there was no one left to talk to, he worked out, and made sure his suit was pressed.

Zach and Nathan both came home around five, resulting in a flurry of activity over dinner and playtime and lullabies.  By the time Nathan was down for the night, Chris was stressing again, not so much over the outcome of the meeting, but just the impending confrontation.  He really didn’t like them.  He could stand on a stage in front of hundreds of people, he could think on his feet when analyzing characters or a script, but around a table with a bunch of suits trying to trip up his logic with legalese… that was not a scene he relished or excelled in.

“It’s going to be okay,” Zach said as they went to bed.

“I know,” Chris whispered, allowing himself to be spooned by Zach.  “I’ll be fine this time tomorrow.  I just want it to be over.”

“Hmmm,” Zach kissed his shoulder.  “What do you need?  Snuggle?  Blow job?”

“I have to choose?”

Zach huffed a laugh, shifting so he could roll Chris onto his back.  “No, you don’t.”

The next morning Chris left earlier than strictly necessary.  He and his lawyer were going to meet first.   Zach seemed distracted as he sent Chris off with a kiss and a restraightened tie, but Chris pushed it out of his mind; he needed to focus on the impending meeting during the drive.

Thirty minutes into the meeting with the execs, Chris was feeling beleaguered and alone.  There had been an entire presentation on demographics and earnings on the last two films, and the likely financial consequences of alienating the straight-white-male-18-to-35 group, which Chris mentally started calling The Homophobes, though he had plenty of friends in that demographic who were perfectly comfortable with him and supportive of gay rights.  In fact, he was pretty sure that the statistics the execs were using painted a much more dire picture of young male attitudes about same-sex relationships than polls he’d seen recently, but since he didn’t have any of that information at his fingertips, it was moot.   The picture the execs were painting was this: _that_ demographic came to the movies, and at least in parts of the country, _that_ demographic was not known for its tolerance.  And surely Chris could understand the need for the Studio to recoup expected losses.  

He'd known this meeting was going to be grueling.  Had realized they were trying to intimidate him as soon as he walked in and saw that there were three executives, two lawyers, and a projector.  But he’d already hit the end of his patience with PowerPoint, and part of him just wished they'd lay out what they wanted so he could agree to it and go home.  He couldn't do that, though.  Because despite the fact that they were working so hard to cover their logic and asses, and despite the fact that they’d succeeded in making him feel outnumbered and on the defensive, none of what they were talking about was on him.  His lawyer, sitting to his right, kept pointing out that none of this had _anything_ to do with Chris’ contract or the language in the option for the third movie.  

"Paragraph twenty-seven, section B clearly states that the options can be renegotiated only in the event that the _last_ films' earnings did not meet certain expectations, and even then, only—"

There was a knock on the door.  The presenting exec gave a confused glance to one of the studio’s lawyers.

“Were we expecting anyone else?”

The door opened and two more suits entered. Chris groaned, figuring they were bringing in reinforcements, but then a third suit entered and closed the door behind him before turning and smiling at him.  For a second he felt as off balance as the men across the table seemed.  Because when he left that morning, this was not part of the plan.

"Zach?"


	16. Day 67, 1:37 p.m.

“Is Nathan okay?” Chris asked, trying to imagine what would have brought Zach to the meeting.

“He’s fine,” Zach said with an almost apologetic expression.  “He’s with your mom.”  And now that Chris looked at him, this was not daddy-Zach, all worried and rumpled.  This was looking-very-together-in-an-expensive-suit-Zach, tall and proud and rather intimidating except for the brief warmth in his eyes as he reassured Chris.  It was gone again as he looked across the table at the gaping studio execs.

“Mr. Pine, what is the meaning of this?  We were very clear—”

Chris raised his hands to protest his innocence as Zach said, “Chris didn’t know I was coming.”

“In that case, Mr. Quinto, we’ll have to ask you to leave.  This is a private meeting, which—”

“Which is likely to affect me both personally and professionally, meriting my presence.  Now, introductions, I think.  You must be Bill Price,” Zach said, offering his hand to Chris’ lawyer, who, Chris noticed, didn’t look nearly as surprised as Chris felt.  A flare of something like betrayal flared in his stomach.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Quinto,” he said, shaking Zach's hand.  

“Please, call me Zach.  This is Jason Meineke, who’s represented me professionally for a number of years, and Carleton Brown, who’s recently agreed to join my team,” Zach continued the introductions, including the names of the people on the other side of the table. Hands were shaken, sometimes reluctantly.  And through it all, Zach avoided Chris’ eyes, making him very apprehensive and a little shut out of his own meeting.  What the hell was Zach up to?

They sat again, Bill still on Chris’ right, Zach now on his left, with his lawyers taking the two seats beyond.  They tucked in, now five on each side of the table, and Zach’s knee pressed against his underneath it.  Chris had a sudden déjà vu: he and Zach seated shoulder to shoulder in suits across a wooden table from lawyers — the day they met Nathan.  Chris released a shaky breath, and Zach finally looked up at him, surprise and worry and warmth flashing in his eyes before he schooled his features again.  Chris couldn't help a quirk of a smile and a push of his knee against Zach's before he did the same.  Side by side, dressed for battle, they both squared their shoulders and faced the opposition.  

“I really don’t think we can continue these negotiations in your presence, Mr. Quinto,” said one of the lawyers for Paramount.  

“My client doesn’t seem to object,” said Bill, looking to Chris for confirmation.  Chris hesitated, but then nodded, and Bill continued, “And considering the wording of the option, it makes sense for the two stars to both be present.”

“Which paragraph leads you to that conclusion?” asked a different studio lawyer, and Chris noticed that the body language had gotten very still on the other side of the table.

“As I was saying before, paragraph twenty-seven offers the conditions under which the options may be renegotiated.  Options.  My research indicates that Paramount has triggered such renegotiations five times in the last three years using contracts with this clause, and in every case, all of the options for the film were reopened and lowered by an average of eight percent.  My reading of this and the case law available indicates that renegotiating Chris’ option would trigger the reopening of all the primary cast members’ options as well, including that of Mr. Quinto.”

“That’s our reading of it as well,” added Mr. Meineke.  “Further, the language in paragraph thirty-nine regarding commensurate treatment would lead us to act—”

The door opened again, revealing a very apologetic secretary begging their pardon and then circling the table to try to talk discretely with one of the execs.

“What’s going on,” Chris whispered, turning slightly toward Zach.

“I called in the cavalry,” he answered quietly as the sound of stiletto heels echoed on the other side of the door.  Chris turned just in time to see Zoe make a sweeping entrance, looking all the world like a very pissed off and slightly pregnant Uhura: high ponytail, high turtleneck, straight skirt emphasizing the bulge in her belly, and boots giving her the look of a soldier going into battle.  A man in a black suit followed her in, waiting as she gave Chris and Zach dazzling smiles before taking her seat on the far side of Bill.  Chris looked across the table.  There were hushed whispers and uncomfortable looks, and Chris couldn’t help but feel pleased that they were the ones outnumbered now.  Not that it mattered; the studio still had the vast majority of the power, in this situation. But he was starting to see the shape of Zach’s plan, and while it wasn’t so different from the one he and Bill had devised, it was more preemptive, already shifting the dynamics in the room.  Having Zach and Zoe both with him… it was a reminder of  the best part of being in these films in the first place: the way the cast had come together and made the story fly.  It made him want to fight for it.

“So,” Zoe said, getting down to business as she took some papers from her lawyer and passed them across the table.  “This might prove useful as discussions continue.”

“And just what are these figures, Ms. Saldana?” the eldest exec asked in a voice so weary Chris had to clench his jaw to prevent himself from smiling.

“My earnings on every film I’ve made since the first Star Trek,” she said, and her voice was sweet, but her expression was sharp as a dagger.  “You’ll note that—”

The door opened again.

“Oh for the love of god, where’s security?” asked a frustrated exec.  Chris was sympathetic, but at this point just holding on to the roller-coaster.

“No need for security,” said Karl, sauntering in with a file under his arm.  “I found the room eventually.  Sorry I’m late.”  He took the seat beyond Zach’s lawyers.  “What did I interrupt?”

Zoe smiled sweetly at him.  “I was just explaining to these fine gentlemen that any of us could pull significantly more money for a film now than we could when we first signed onto Trek.”

“Right.  I’d say that’s definitely true.”  He pulled a sheet of paper out of his file with a table that looked much like Zoe's.  

“And since they’re talking about opening the options to negotiations,” Zoe continued.

“That would be useful information,” Karl agreed.

“We’re only opening Mr. Pine’s option.”

“No,” said Zach. “You’re not.”

A thick silence hung over the table.  Chris couldn’t help but admire the beauty of it.  Because no one had actually said anything yet.  Zach hadn’t said that if they tried to replace Chris, they could end up recasting several key characters, and that if they tried to lower his salary or change how he was treated, the rest of the cast would revolt. But all of that was hanging in the air as lawyers shuffled paper and notes.  Chris didn’t want his friends sacrificing anything for him, but it did feel good to have them standing there beside him.

“You wouldn’t win in court if you tried to sue us to open them.”  The head lawyer for the studio didn’t sound entirely convinced of this, his voice wavering slightly as he made the argument.

“Perhaps,” said Mr. Brown, who had been silent up to that point.  “But that would prove expensive and time consuming, and likely bring you unwanted attention.  You would be in the awkward position of having to explain in a rather public forum why Mr. Pine’s option was subject to negotiation and the other’s weren’t.”  He fiddled for a moment with a piece of paper in front of him.  “We live in such interesting times, do we not?  The laws surrounding protections and civil liberties for certain groups are so fluid.  Attitudes are changing so quickly.”

More silence, and then whispering on the other side of the table.  Chris was pretty sure he heard "ACLU" and "pro bono" as one of their lawyers glanced at Mr. Brown.  Chris snuck a quick peek at Zach, who was looking very intently across the table and just a tad smug.  He didn't return Chris' look, but he did press his knee into Chris'.

Finally, the older exec said, “We’re just worried about the onscreen chemistry between Kirk and Spock.”

“Really?”  Chris asked, leaning forward and threading his fingers together.  “Because I just sat through forty slides, and not one of them was about on-screen chemistry.”

Another awkward silence.   "Those slides are protected under the confidentiality clauses of your contract."

"Sure, sure," Chris agreed.  "But the data you cited were mostly public: studies by Experian Simmons, the Media Research Center, The Heritage Foundation's Council on Media," Chris said, referring to his notes.  "I imagine if I went home and Googled those names I'd be able to find those same statistics."

"Indeed you would," said Mr. Brown before the execs could answer.  "And if you did a similar search using Washington Post or even The Cato Institute, you might find less damning statistics than the ones you were probably presented.  And they'd be more recent."

The senior exec leaned back in his chair, watching the proceedings carefully as members of his team met eyes and then shifted.  He seemed to realize that they’d irrevocably lost control of the situation.  Whether that would make him dig in harder or relent was hard to say.

“Of course,” Karl broke into the silence, “if you were really worried about the on screen chemistry between Spock and Kirk, it seems that trying to drive a wedge between Chris and Zach would be counterproductive.  Especially considering that you’re giving the film to a new director.  Serious potential to bugger up the whole feel of the thing.  And the only chance of getting it right — preserving the feel of the other films —  is to keep the cohesion of the cast.  And yet you decide…” Karl waved at all the papers.  “Not to mention Gene Roddenberry's estate would probably go berserk if they found out why you were doing it.  He built that show on the concepts of tolerance.”

Zach leaned back in his chair, watching as people whispered again on the other side of the table.  Chris met his eyes briefly before scanning the table.  Then he sighed, leaning forward again.

"Look, I get it.  You didn't see this coming and you're unhappy.  But Karl's right: trying to turn the cast against itself isn't going to do the film any favors.  And more to the point, it won't work.  You don't get a vote in our personal lives.  

"As far as our chemistry is concerned, it's frankly insulting that you think a relationship would impact our ability to act.  Zach and I are both professionals.  We've shot the films when we were tired and grumpy, when we were happy, when one of us was having relationship problems or family health issues, and we've never brought that to the screen."  He looked at his hands briefly, stomach flipping a bit as decided how much of his personal life to share.  "And to be honest, I've felt this way about Zach for as long as we've worked on Trek, even though it took me ages to man up and do something about it.  So whatever chemistry you've seen on screen was fed by that energy.  It won't be sapped by it."

He looked up and down his side of the table and then back at them again.  "You obviously need to rethink your strategy in light of this meeting.  So we'll leave you to it.  When you decide on your next move, you know how to find me."

He stood and started gathering his moleskin and cellphone as Zach and the others followed his lead.  He leaned into Bill and suggested they talk soon and asked if he needed the names of the data sources the execs had cited.  

"I've got them," Bill whispered back.  "And the ones Brown mentioned.  I'll have a report for you in a day or two."

Chris nodded and clapped Bill’s back in thanks. "We're going to have a conversation about you keeping secrets from me, too," he whispered softly enough that it wouldn't carry over the the sound of chairs scraping and quiet conversations in the room.

Bill looked up sharply, surprised.  "Chris—"

"Not here."

He turned to leave, briefly meeting Zach’s alarmed gaze when the senior exec's voice cut through the soft din.   "When were you thinking of announcing it to the public?"

Chris turned slowly.  The senior exec was standing in the corner, distanced from the rest of the studio's team, who were all standing shock-still.

"I beg your pardon?"

"So far, there are just rumors.  You haven't made any public announcements, though you also haven't made any denials."

Chris slipped a hand in his pocket, fidgeting with the phone he’d just put there.  "We've told family and some friends," he said, choosing words carefully.  He didn't want to get out ahead of things he and Zach had talked about.

The exec nodded.  "It might be better for the film if any announcements happen sooner rather than later.  Let the reaction blow over before for filming starts.  There will still be added attention, but not as much as there would be if it comes out during filming or if they think they know something you're trying to hide."

He looked at Zach, raising an eyebrow.  Zach shrugged so slightly he doubted that anyone else could tell he'd answered Chris' voiceless question.

"We'll take that under advisement," he said as he turned back the executive, "and get back to you."

The man nodded, and they filed out of the room, leaving the studio team to close the door behind them.  He didn't think their debrief was going to go well, but that wasn't his problem.  When they got to the lobby, they let out a collective sigh.  Zoe turned to him, but he shook his head, opened the door and held it for her, winking as she went by.  He didn't want to do this where a receptionist would overhear and report back to management.

When they got to the parking lot, Chris finally turned and faced his Zoe and Karl.

“Thank you.  That was an unexpected show of solidarity.”

Zoe gave him a hug, bumping him with her belly.  “We weren’t going to let them use us against our captain.”

"Look at you," he said, smiling down at her baby bump.  "You know, Zach and I now have ridiculously strong opinions on things like bottle nipples and diaper brands, so hit us up.”

“It’s true,” Zach said.  “It’s sort of amazing how quickly you form unshakable judgments on things you’d never considered in the entirety of your previous life.  Like diaper rash cream.”

She snorted and hugged Chris again.  "I will definitely do that."  She moved on to hugging Zach, and Chris heard him mutter thanks for coming on such short notice.  

Chris turned to Karl, holding out his hand.  “Thanks, man.”

“No worries, Chris,” he said, taking Chris’s hand and pulling him into a loose hug.  “The best thing about that film,” he said, pulling back, “is the way the cast felt like a family.  And now it really is one.  And it’s growing,” Karl added, turning to hug Zoe, too.

“Do you have a picture of the kiddiwink?” Karl asked, looking back and Chris and Zach.  They pulled their phones out in perfect unison, making Zoe bark a laugh.

Karl took Zach’s phone, scrolling through several photos before settling on a zoom of Nathan’s face.  He looked back and forth between Chris and Zach, brows furrowed and expression searching.

“He looks just like Zach, doesn’t he?”  Chris asked, pride clear in his voice.  But Karl’s expression was more “you’re crazy” than “yup, he’s a Mini-Z.”  

Karl shook his head at Chris and handed Zach his phone.  “How’d you manage that?” he asked, directing the question to Zach.

“Just lucky, I guess,” Zach said, as if the question made sense.  Chris tilted his head at Zach, but he just chuckled.

“Well, he’s beautiful.  I need to get back across town, but we should have lunch soon so I can meet the munchkin myself.”

“Sounds good,” Zach said.  Zoe kissed them both goodbye as well, and they stood in the parking lot side by side, waving goodbye to their friends.

Zach turned to him, somewhat tentatively.

“Chris—”

“Not here,” Chris said.  His adrenalin from the meeting was finally crashing, and though most of what he was feeling was _relief_ , there were other emotions intermingled.  And things that needed to be discussed away from prying eyes.  He turned toward Zach, who was looking completely debonair in his suit — barely recognizable as the man he’d shared baby-burping duties with the last two months.  It was unsettling but also comforting.  He knew this Zach, too.  Had known him for _years_ — on red carpets, at awards shows, galas, and reception.  This was the Zach he’d fallen for, yearned for, and now had.  It was a good reminder that his boyfriend wasn’t just goofy-happy-dad-Zach.

Zach opened his mouth again to speak, but Chris shook his head.  He really didn’t want an audience.

“When do we need to get Nathan?”

Zach’s brows furrowed.  “Not until six or seven.”

“I’ll meet you at home,” Chris said, nodding.

“Chris…”  Zach was looking worried now, and Chris tried to give him a reassuring smile and grip on the arm.  He nodded at a passing group of people, and Zach followed his gaze, realizing how close they were.

“I’ll see you at home," he repeated softly.

Zach bit his lip, nodding.  “Okay.  I’ll see you at home.”

Chris turned, and felt Zach’s eyes on him all the way back to his car.

 


	17. Day 67, 3:24 p.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank Zach, yell at him, or kiss him senseless for looking so fucking good in his Armani suit — probably all three.

Chris and Zach had a standing disagreement on the best way to get home from the Paramount studios.  Zach took Melrose down to the 101, went south a few exits until he got to Silver Lake Blvd, and took that through town and into the hills.  Chris didn’t like all that traffic, and usually just took Santa Monica Blvd until it turned into Sunset, and then went west on Micheltorena up the hill.  The time wasted winding through narrow roads was generally less than the time spent merging with traffic on the 101 or waiting at lights on Silver Lake, though on a good day the freeway was faster, if more nerve wracking.

Today was apparently not a good day.  Chris arrived home first, after not nearly enough time to set his thoughts straight.  He let the dogs out and checked his phone for messages: two from his agent, probably wondering what the fuck had happened during the meeting.  Unless she was in on it, too.

Chris went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, debated a minute, and then poured one for Zach, too.  He took a sip as he watched the hummingbirds fight over the feeder through the window.  He might have screwed up.  He really _hadn’t_ wanted an audience for any of the things they needed to talk about, but the way they parted may have given Zach the impression that he was ashamed.  Or really upset.  

It was more that he wanted some control.  The last thing they needed was to be outed when a picture was snapped of them kissing goodbye in a parking lot.  He wanted to define how they went public.  And maybe he was reacting to the fact that he’d had so little control during that meeting.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank Zach, yell at him, or kiss him senseless for looking so fucking good in his Armani suit — probably all three.  And all three were best done at home.

Chris took the water glasses back into the living room and set them down on the coffee table just as the front door opened.  He looked up to see Zach closing the door and leaning against it, watching Chris warily.  He hated that.

“Zach—”

“I’m sorry—”

Chris blinked.

“I see now I should have told you.  I heard what you said to Bill, and he didn’t know.  I… I _alluded,_ yesterday, that I might be up to something, but even I wasn’t sure at that point who would make it and whether I’d get Carleton Brown on board.  Don’t blame Bill.  It all came together quite late, and I was afraid... I was afraid if you knew, they’d be able to tell, and that if they thought you were the instigator it would make things worse for you, and that was the very last thing I wanted to do.  This way, at least they could tell you were surprised and if they weren’t intimidated any fallout would come on me.  And it wasn’t because I didn’t think you could handle it.  I’m sure you were handling it.  But they were trying to isolate you and I just couldn’t stand—”

“Zach.”

“—by and let that happen when there was possibly a way I could intervene and—”

“Zach.”

“—make them see what conservative, spineless, pathetic, assho—”

“Zach!”

But Zach kept going, until finally Chris stepped forward and pushed him against the door with an oomph and covered his mouth in a scorching kiss.  Because if that was the only way to shut him up, then so be it.

Zach made a sound in the back of his throat — maybe surprise, maybe words still trying to form  — and then after what seemed like minutes but could only be seconds, Zach surrendered.  He melted against Chris and kissed back.  Chris could feel a desperation in Zach's kiss and the way his fingers clung to Chris' shirt under his jacket.  Chris cupped Zach's face with both hands, trying to pour reassurance and care through their joined lips, until he felt Zach calm.  

"Breathe," Chris whispered as he gentled the kiss and pressed their foreheads together.  Zach nodded and took a shuddering gasp.  

"I spent the drive home thinking I may have irrevocably fucked things up between us."

"I'm sorry.  And you didn't.  We need to talk about some things, sure, but it's nothing so dire as that.  I just didn't want to do it in a parking lot.  In part because I can't do this there," he said, kissing Zach again, "until we figure out how we're going to go public."

"I thought maybe you didn't want to yell at me in public."

"That, too.  Though I'm feeling less and less need to argue."  He sighed and kissed Zach again, trying to form the words he needed to say.  "I appreciate what you did, and you did help.  A lot.  Bill and I were trying to get them to refocus on the language in the option, but I probably would have agreed to take a hit so I could stay on the film.  You shifted the balance of power in that room, and it was great to feel it happen.  I just…” he struggled for a moment, trying to pinpoint why he felt anything other than grateful.  “Look, I’ve been in this industry — at least tangentially — for a long time, and it’s been _years_ since I asked a family member for advice on contract negotiations.  I understand that you were trying to protect me but, when you came in, I had no idea what was going on.  Assumed that something was wrong with Nathan, which scared the holy _shit_ out of me.  It was really disorienting to realize that there was nothing wrong; you were just crashing the meeting.  And it made me feel like… I don’t know.  Like a child whose parents swept in to save him from himself.  

Zach blanched.  "That's not... I don't see you like that.  I wasn't trying to do that.  I just... they were _threatening_ you."

"I know."  

"And you came out to Pittsburgh like a knight in shining armor," Zach continued.

"That's completely different."

"Why, because I'm the one who needed help?" Zach asked, exasperated.

"No, Zach.  Because I _offered_ my help, and you accepted, knew I was coming, actually picked me up from the airport and brought me with you to the law offices.  And I sat beside you as _you_ participated in your meeting, just contributing a few questions here and there.  I didn't hijack anything."

Zach looked defeated, and Chris stroked his cheek to soften the blow.

"We weren't together then," Zach said quietly.  

"No, we weren't.  And that's the problem."  Zach's eyes widened.  "The part of this that's my fault," Chris clarified.  "I was acting like I was still single.  And I'm not.  You were right when you said that meeting had the potential to affect you both personally and professionally.  The execs should have invited you in the first place — should have invited both of us.  That’s where this went wrong initially.  But when they didn’t, _I_ should have.  I’m just not used to thinking that way... I’ve been effectively on my own or in casual relationships for so long that it never occurred to me.  They invited me.  Just me.   I wasn’t even entirely sure of the specifics of what they were up to, though I had strong suspicions.  And it just didn’t occur to me to change the dynamics unilaterally and invite you.  But if I had, it would have made it clear to Paramount that we're a unit now, and if they want to do something in reaction to our personal lives, they have to deal with _us_ _,_ not just me.  And you wouldn't have been in the position of having to figure out a way to sneak in.  So, I’m sorry about that. This is all just so new between us, and I’ve never been seriously involved with someone I was also shooting with."  

Chris took a small step back, running a hand through his hair as he thought about that meeting: how the execs tried to isolate him, how he and Bill had gone in prepared, but essentially waiting for the execs to make a move so they could react to precisely the issues raised.  By the time he had a chance to react, the power balance was basically dictating certain outcomes.  He might have been able to recover from it in a follow up meeting, but it would have been an uphill climb.  What actually happened was a much better outcome.  "I can see now that you’re better at that sort of positioning than I am," he continued.  "Savvier.  But I didn’t like being surprised.  It made me feel like I didn’t even know who my allies were.  Even Bill, whom I _pay_ to be an ally, seemed in on it.  And I had no choice in the matter.  I could follow your lead, or… nothing.  There was no other real option.  I expect to be backed into a corner by the execs.  I don’t expect that from you.  Obviously, I couldn’t be happier about the way it turned out.  Obviously, I’ll be turning to you for advice on this kind of thing in the future.  But from now on, we go in together, from the start.  If I slip up, you ask to come, and we'll work out strategy together.  Okay?"

Zach nodded, visibly relieved.  "Okay, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I really thought it was the best way to protect you."

“I’d much rather have a say in how things go in my own career than be protected.”  

Zach grimaced and nodded, his eyes going sort of misty.

"Hey," he leaned forward and kissed Zach again, softly, savoring the sigh it earned him.  "All I’m saying is that if we’re partners, let’s be _partners._  Let’s act together, and talk things out before we do anything.  We both acted unilaterally here.  My action...or non-action, really… probably messed things up more, or at least left them as messed up at the Studio tried to make them, and yours definitely fixed them, but it _still_ would have been better if we’d been together from the start.”

“I was trying to keep them focused on me.  I wanted them to take it out on me if it went south.”

“Do you think that’s what I want, Zach?  For you to go out on a limb for me and get burned?  And if we set this precedent, what happens if the next time doesn't turn out as well, and I have _real_ reason to resent you?  That wouldn’t be any good for our relationship.  We are in this together," he said, linking their fingers.  "We have to stand together.  And we’ll face the consequences and any fall out together.  That’s the only way it’s going to work.  And it’s not surprising we didn’t get it exactly right the first time… we’ll get better, right?"  Zach nodded, biting his lip,  "Anyway, it was good for me to remember who it is I'm shacking up with," Chris said with a small smile, kissing Zach's knuckles and letting go to slip his hands under Zach's jacket at the waist.

"An overbearing asshole?" Zach asked ruefully.

"Hardly.  But I've gotten so used to seeing your adorkable self in sleep pants and formula-stained shirts that I forgot how imposing and sexy you can be when dressed in Armani and on a mission.  I'm a lucky man."

"You did not just call me adorkable," Zach said incredulously.

Chris laughed softly and kissed him, slipping his hands back around Zach’s waist.  "I also called you sexy."

"I'm not sure that compensates."

"That's because you don't realize just _how_ sexy I find you in this suit," Chris murmured against Zach's jaw, skimming his fingers along Zach's spine.

Zach hummed against his ear..  "I guess... I guess once we're 'out' I'll have to take you somewhere special so we can dress up.  I like the idea of you being all hot and bothered while dining."

"Is that so?" chuckled Chris.  "Now that Nathan’s sleeping a bit better, Mom might be willing to take him a bit longer.  Once we're 'out'..." Chris pulled back, thinking.  "Huh.  I wonder if _they'd_ do it."

"If who'd do what?"

"OUT.  Out us."

"The magazine?"

"Yeah.  You know people there, right?"

"Sure, but there's going public, and then there's going _public_ _._  We could just do a joint press release.  You don't have to do OUT for me.  I don't expect that."

"I know, but press releases always feel so impersonal.  If OUT interviewed us with a picture or two, it would all seem... I don't know, more humanizing?  They do good interviews —  ask provoking questions and generally make their subjects compelling.  They appeal to their readers' intelligence as well as their humanity.  If we're going to have some control over how this is all perceived, I think they'd start us out in a positive place.  Of course, they might not be interested.  And if you don't like the idea, we can drop it.  I'm just thinking out loud, here."

Zach frowned as he considered it.  "If you're talking about offering them an exclusive, I bet they'd take it.  I’d have to think about it some more, but the idea has merit.  Would you want Nathan in the pictures?"

"That would have to be your call.  You're his dad.”  Zach gave him a look that bordered on quizzical.  “Anyway, we don't have to decide that immediately.  Filming's still a ways off, with Zoe in her condition.  We have time.  But if we decide he should be, then I think we should wait until he's smiling and holding his head up a little better."

"When’s that?  In another month?"

"Give or take.  We'll be in a better headspace with a little distance from the Paramount meeting, too."

"Yeah," Zach said, holding Chris closer.  There was something urgent in his embrace.  Urgent,  but not sexual.  

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”  But it didn’t seem it.  Chris wrapped his arms around Zach’s back, under his jacket.  

“Sorry."  Zach took a deep breath.  “It’s just, normally when I realize I’ve been overbearing, it doesn’t turn out—”

“Why do you keep saying that?  I never used that word.”

“It’s...it’s come up before.  That word.”

“When?”

“Break ups.  Exit interviews of sorts. I get overly protective, apparently.   Look, it's been an emotional few days.  Trying to decide how to help you, then trying to make it work.  And then after that meeting… the look on your face... I seriously thought I'd screwed up.   You said you liked it when I was a little possessive, but ‘hijacking’ is clearly beyond that, even if my intentions were good.  And now you want to pose as a family in OUT for anyone to see, and my adrenaline levels can’t quite keep up,” he laughed shakily.

Chris pulled him tighter and buried his face in Zach’s neck, feeling Zach do the same.  He and Zach never lingered over stories of breakups, but he did remember hearing some of Jon’s accusations, and this was starting to ring bells.  And with Miles, Zach’d thought everything was fine until suddenly the entire relationship disappeared because of a change in Zach’s life that Miles couldn’t abide.  And Chris hadn't meant to trigger any of that.

“Well, this is no exit interview.  And you did a lot of good with all your swooping in like a hero.  I just need to to be in the loop from now on.”

“Yeah.”  Zach’s voice was still shaky.

“And this thing between us is solid.  You know?  I mean, isn't it?  I'm sure I'll piss you off sometimes.  And we'll step on each other's toes as we navigate being a couple and taking care of Nathan, but that doesn't mean... For me, at least, exit interviews were never on the table.  Not even remotely.  So... so you just keep being your possessive, intervening, sexy, adorkable self — because that’s how I love you — and if you push me too hard, I’ll push back a bit and we’ll find that boundary together.  Because that’s what couples are supposed to do.”  Wow, he was quoting his parents about relationships.  That spoke volumes.  “You aren’t going to push me _away._ And I want to know when I'm pushing at you, too, or stepping on your toes... especially with Nathan... before it becomes—”

Zach had pulled back abruptly, gaze searching Chris’ face.  “What did you say?”

“I called you adorkable again," Chris muttered apologetically.  "And you don’t like it.  But it’s incredibly accurate.  I promise not to say it in public.  Sometimes the language needs to gr—”

“No, after that.”

Chris thought for a moment.   “You won’t push me away,” Chris said, smiling.  Because he was pretty sure that was not what Zach was after.  He licked his lips, watching Zach’s anxiety melt away and warmth permeate his gaze.

“Before that,” Zach murmured with a small smile.

“I love you.”  And even though Zach had to have been expecting it, Chris didn’t miss the small gasp as he heard the words.

"Do you really?  Oh my god, that's fantastic," he said, cupping Chris' face with both hands and kissing him.  "I love you, too.  So much."

Chris was smiling too hard to kiss properly, but Zach seemed undeterred.  It felt like renewal and promise and apology and forgiveness all at once.  And hot.  Because...well, Chris couldn’t really remember any kisses with Zach that weren’t.  

“So we’re really okay?” Zach asked breathlessly, pressing his forehead against Chris’.

“We’re _absolutely_ okay,” Chris said, chasing his lips.  “Unless you have something you need to say.”

“No.  I was hoping for a less complicated form of gratitude, but I get it.  I really do.  I’m good.”

“Then _we’re_ good.”

The next kiss was scorching.  “In that case,” said Zach, slipping Chris’ tie through his fingers.  “Come with me.”

“Okay.”

“We don’t have to leave to get Nathan for another two hours.  I think this calls for make-up sex.”

“We never broke up.”

“Yes, but it’s so much more succinct than we-survived-our-first-argument-and-said-we-loved-each-other sex.  Plus, I’m not the only one who looks good in a suit.   _And_ you said you loved me.”

“You already mentioned that,” Chris said smiling, following Zach down the hall.

“It bears repeating.”

“Zach,” Chris said, reaching out a hand to stop him.

“Yeah?” Zach asked, turning to face him.

“I love you.”

Zach cupped his face in both hands.  “And I love you.  And even though I’m being flippant about it, what I really want right now is to feel your skin against mine and kiss you for about two hours straight and forget anyone else exists.”

And that was a plan Chris was definitely on board with. 


	18. Day 84, 2:07 a.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris had no idea that such a little baby could produce so much snot...

“Fuck,” Chris muttered as he tripped, stumbling down the dark hall toward Nathan’s room.

It was Zach’s turn to feed and change him, but as Chris started to drift back to sleep, he heard Zach calling his name from the nursery with an urgency that probably implied a major diaper blowout. Those usually required all hands on deck and the disinfectant spray on the bassinet mattress and all manner of linen changes.

“What’s up?” he asked, leaning against the door jamb and blinking his eyes against the bright overhead light.

“Something’s seriously wrong,” Zach said. He was bouncing Nathan in his arms, trying to get him to take a bottle. The baby was screaming and refusing it. “Feel him.”

Chris was wide awake now and quickly walked over to put his hand on Nathan’s brow. “Shit, he’s burning up.”

“And he won’t take the pacifier or the bottle. I think maybe he can’t breathe. And I know we’ve both read what to do, but I’m drawing a complete blank. Where’s that baby med kit thing your mom got us?”

“Bathroom. I’ll go get it.”

Chris came back with the kit and his phone and Moleskine a few minutes later. The med kit included an electronic thermometer to use in Nathan’s ear, a blue bulbous thing that looked like it was designed for torture, gripe water, various diaper creams, saline spray, and bottles of infant Tylenol and Benadryl that were clearly marked for 6-24 months.

“Okay, I think we should check his temperature first, and then I’ll call the 24-hour nurses’ line.” The instructions for the thermometer were simple enough, and it looked a bit like the instrument he remembered doctors sticking in his ears growing up, though he was pretty sure they were looking at something, not measuring anything. Since this thermometer was electric, and had to be seated in Nathan’s ear _just so_ to work, it took multiple tries. Nathan was already flailing and crying and did _not_ take kindly to something being stuck in his ear, but at least Chris didn’t have to stick a mercury thermometer in the kid’s butt like in the old days. He was sure that would have been infinitely worse. When the third attempt still showed a temperature of 100.1 degrees Fahrenheit, Chris was convinced. Their boy had a serious fever.

He called the nurses’ line provided by Nathan’s pediatrician while Zach continued attempts to soothe his son. Over the wails, Chris described his symptoms: temperature, crying, refusal of the bottle. He assured her that Nathan had had all his immunizations to date.

“Well, then it’s probably nothing too serious, but with a temperature that high, you may need to come in. Have you tried clearing his nostrils?”

“How do we do that?” And when she described the process of using the bulb syringe to suck the snot out of the baby’s nose, he could only say, “You’re kidding.” He got the rest of the instructions for home remedies — including shooting saltwater up the baby's nose — and was told what would require a doctor’s visit.

“If his temperature hasn’t dropped below 100 by morning, call your pediatrician and make an appointment. If he exhibits any of the other symptoms we talked about — fever above 100.5, blue on his lips or fingernails, vomiting or diarrhea — take him to the urgent care clinic on Vermont St. immediately. But if you get his nose clear, he should take the bottle again. He just can’t have his mouth around something if he can’t breathe through his nose. The most important thing is to keep him hydrated and make sure he sleeps.”

“Okay, uh, thanks,” he said jotting notes in his Moleskine and relaying the information to Zach, asking if he had any other questions.

As they talked back and forth over Nathan’s screams, the nurse added, “Why don’t you try it while I’m on the line?”

“You sure?” Chris asked, focused on her again.

“I don’t have any other calls waiting, and it’s quiet here. And I know new parents can find this difficult.”

“Uh, that’d be great. Hold on… I’m going to put you on speaker.”

He propped the phone up on the edge of the changing table and took the snot sucker thing in hand. “It’s probably best to set the baby on a changing table and have your partner hold him steady, especially his head, while you insert the bulb syringe.”

They positioned Nathan on the changing pad, and Zach held Nathan’s head between his hands.

“Be sure to squeeze it first,” the nurse added. “Squeeze, insert, release pressure, remove.”

“Got it,” Chris said, squeezing the syringe awkwardly. “Here we go. Squeeze. Insert.” Oh, Nathan did _not_ like that. “Release.” The resulting suction made Nathan’s eyes fly open and arms flail back in shock as phlegm was slurped into the syringe. Chris quickly pulled it out and then had no idea what to do with the dripping glop he’d removed. Zach grabbed a burp cloth from the shelf below the table and laid it across Nathan’s chest, and Chris squeezed the syringe again and blew an impressive volume of snot onto the cloth.

“Oh, my god,” Zach said.

“Yeah, I think that explains a lot. Okay, Little Man, we’ve got to do this a few more times.”

They thanked the nurse and let her go, and then repeated the process until nothing more came out. Nathan looked about as pissed off as a baby could get, but his cries were less gurgly. Chris grabbed the saline mist.

“He’s pissed off anyway, I guess we may as well do the whole process before we try to comfort him.”

Zach nodded, though he definitely looked on edge. Even though they were doing it for a good reason, the baby-torture was clearly wearing on him. Zach looked like he wanted to snatch Nathan away and rock him, but he held Nathan's head still again as Chris read the instructions and then squirted the saline drops into each of Nathan’s nostrils… it was supposed to loosen any other mucus and help keep him breathing. Again, Nathan was not a fan of the process, and was practically purple from all his screaming.

“I think that’s it. See if he’ll take the bottle now and I’ll clean this up.”

Zach picked up his son, shushing him and holding him close as he walked back over to the rocking chair. “Let’s see if this works, now,” he whispered, moving the nipple across Nathan’s lips and waiting for him to catch on and latch on. It took several seconds — Nathan was pretty focused on his screaming — but then he tentatively took a few sucks, and was actually able to drink. Chris washed the snot sucker (and his _hands_ because... wow) and changed the linens on the bassinet and the changing table and anything else Nathan may have dripped on. He took the laundry basket down the hall and started a load of baby things. He was pretty sure they’d be going through clothes and linens at a faster rate over the next few days. When he came back to the nursery, Zach was whispering to Nathan, “...babbino non voleva… ti vuole tanto bene.”

He padded over and crouched by the chair, surprised to hear the little bit of Italian Zach's Nonna had taught him coming from Zach's mouth. “He doing okay?”

“He drank nearly two ounces, and he’s falling asleep, but he’s still really warm. Will you take his temperature again?”

“Yeah, hold on.” Chris got the instrument, put a clean shield on it, and knelt in front of the chair. “This one doesn’t hurt, remember?” he whispered to Nathan as he stretched his ear to get the sensor seated properly. Nathan stiffened but kept drinking. A few seconds later it beeped.

“100.1, still,” Chris said, pulling off the disposable shield and throwing it away. “Not good, but at least not worse.”

Zach nodded, biting his lip. A few minutes later, Nathan went slack, the nipple slipping out of his mouth. Zach placed him on his shoulder and patted his back a few times, and when Nathan let out a small burp, Zach gently placed him back in his bassinet. Chris checked the settings on the baby monitor to make sure it would pick up the softest noises.

Zach hovered over the bassinet, and Chris walked over and took his hand. “C’mon Zach. We need to sleep when he does so we can be alert when he needs us.”

“I know. It’s just hard not to hold him when he’s like this.”

Chris slipped his arms around Zach’s waist and settled his chin on Zach’s shoulder, looking down at Nathan. “He’s breathing okay again, and he has a full belly. There’s not much more we can do for him until morning.”

“I know.” He still wasn’t moving, though.

Chris kissed his neck and felt him relax back against his chest. “Come to bed,” he whispered.

“Okay.”

“But wash your hands first.”

Zach snorted and followed him back to the master bedroom.

Two hours later, it was much the same. This time, after Zach was feeding Nathan again and Chris had started another load of laundry, he pulled out his Moleskine and made notes about each feeding, even making a graph of Nathan's temperature versus time. It was up to 100.3, and Zach's face was drawn with worry. Nathan took 1.3 ounces of formula, which wasn't his usual 2-3, but seemed to make up for the fluids he'd lost. They decided to wait and take him to their usual pediatrician rather than risk a visit to urgent care.

They settled back into bed, Zach's cheek against Chris' chest, and Chris' arms wrapped around his back. Zach sighed, and Chris absently played with the hair on Zach's forearm as he worried, eyes still adjusting to the inky dark.

"He's going to be fine," Zach said, though it sounded like he was trying to reassure himself rather than Chris.

"Of course he is," Chris whispered, squeezing Zach a little tighter and dropping a kiss on his head. "We'll get him into the pediatrician first thing. I'll call when they open at 7:30."

Zach nodded silently.

"Try to sleep. I think we're in for a rough few days."

Zach was silent long enough that Chris thought he might be falling asleep.

Then came hushed, fragile words in the dark: "I love you, Chris."

Chris shifted so he was lower, face to face with Zach, pressing a soft kiss into his lips, breathing his air. “I love you," he whispered, brushing Zach's hair off his brow. "He’s going to be fine.”

"Yeah..."

They drifted off… neither of them quite believing it.

Two and a half hours later, they were up again, and this time they just stayed up. They got Nathan fed and dressed, and then took turns showering themselves as the other comforted the baby. At 7:30, Chris called the pediatrician, and within a half hour they were on the road.

For the first time ever, they entered the “sick baby” waiting room instead of the “well baby” waiting room used for checkups and immunizations. It was full of hacking, dripping, wheezing, crying children of all ages. Zach curled around Nathan as if he might be able to protect him from the air.

They were called in just as Chris finished filling out the paperwork. Nathan did not take kindly to being stripped to a diaper, weighed, and prodded by the nurse. He needed to have his nose cleared again before the doctor made it in.

“Oh, dear. Nathan, too?” the doctor asked looking over the notes in the computer. “Has he started vomiting yet?”

Zach’s eyes widened. “No. He’s just warm and fussy and stuffed up. Having a hard time eating.”

Chris explained their night as the doctor took notes.

“I’m going to to want to keep a log the next few days,” the doctor said, taking a sheet of paper and handing it to Chris. “Record his temperature, diapers, and ounces eaten—”

“Oh, I may already be doing that,” he said, pulling out his Moleskine and showing the doctor his graph. Zach gave him an astonished look.

“Oh, yes, this will work. So his temperature is now 101.2, so that’s a steady increase over the last 12 hours, according to this. Not dangerous yet, but we need to be watchful, especially if he stops feeding or keeping it down. If it gets to 102, give him a half of the lowest dose of infant Tylenol — you can buy some in the pharmacy downstairs if you don’t have any. If clearing with the bulb syringe stops being effective, you can give him a half dose of infant Benadryl, but it will knock him out, so be careful. Just to be safe, let’s make an appointment again tomorrow. Same time? I’ll be at my offices at the hospital across town — do you mind driving over there? As long as he stays hydrated and you keep his temperature down, he should weather this fine, but since it’s his first flu, I’d like to keep a close eye on him. I’ll be honest; this flu is hitting his age group hard, and we’ve already had several hospitalizations. So, be alert. This is not just a cold.”

“We don’t mind driving across town,” Zach said, rocking Nathan and going a bit pale as Chris took copious notes in his Moleskine.

“You both had your flu shots, right?”

Chris nodded. “And the nanny’s had hers as well.”

“Well, good luck today, then. Keep the log and keep him hydrated, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning at 8. Call us if he goes longer than five hours without eating or his temperature can’t be controlled with the Tylenol.”

And they were on their way out again, through the waiting-room-of-pestilence and into the morning sunshine.

Zach got Nathan settled in his car seat, then leaned back in the passenger seat and closed his eyes.

“You okay?” Chris asked, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking spot.

“Yeah, but other people’s children are disgusting.”

Chris snorted and turned right out of the parking lot, heading home. “Yeah, by comparison, we’re pretty lucky.”

They cleared their schedules, Zach making calls to have other Before the Door partners meet with clients, and began a grueling day of parenting. Nathan’s fever shot up mid afternoon, and then dropped when they gave him the Tylenol. It was terrible to hear his cries. Terrible to do things that pissed him off even more and made him cry harder. By the end of the day, they both were drawn and quiet and just trying to stay ahead of the laundry and washing of the snot sucker and saline sprayers, working in tandem and anticipating needs. One or the other of them held Nathan all day as the other made bottles and folded blankets and stripped and washed linens from… pretty much everywhere. Nathan drank less and less, but he slept when they held him and his fever stayed below 102 with the help of the Tylenol.

All that changed at 3 a.m., when they became intimately familiar with the meaning of “projectile vomiting.”

“How is that even possible?” asked Chris. “I was three feet away.” He pulled his shirt off and threw it in the hamper.

“Um, it’s in your hair now,” Zach said, expression warring between a smile and the very real worry that had been plaguing him all day. And sleep deprivation, because that was a thing again, too.

“So that’s where the smell is still coming from. And I thought formula smelled bad when it was fresh.”

Zach chuckled in spite of himself. “Go shower. I’ve got this.”

“You sure? I can finish getting him changed first.”

“Just put another bottle in the warmer, and I’ll see if I can’t get anything back into him after I get him changed.”

The shower was bliss. And short, because as much as he was trying to put on a brave face for Zach, Chris was getting really worried, too. He thought about the instructions the doctor had given them again, and Nathan wasn’t bad enough to take to the ER, but he was really glad that they had another appointment in five short hours.

He came back into the nursery wearing clean sleep pants and a t-shirt, to find Zach sitting in the rocker trying to feed Nathan again.

“How’s he doing?”

“He filled another diaper, but I got him cleaned up and he’s drunk about an ounce. I feel like he puked his body weight, but it was probably just a bit more than he drank. Still, it’s not enough. He’s falling asleep again.”

Chris took his temperature and then recorded everything in his Moleskine.

“I can’t believe you thought to do that,” Zach whispered, still rocking his son. “Before the doctor even told us to.”

Chris looked down at his chart and notes, shrugging. “I just knew I’d forget the details once we talked to a doctor. And you know me; I like to analyze. I need information on paper to be able to do that.”

Zach gave him a small smile. “Yeah, you do that.” The smile faded as he looked back down at Nathan. “You’ve been so great through this. So… capable. I feel like I’m barely holding it together and just reacting, and you’re making graphs and teaching yourself how to wield a snot sucker and just diving in."

Zach looked despondent. Chris had been so focused on helping to take care of Nathan that he'd neglected taking care of Zach. “Hey, you’re a great dad.” Zach gave him a disbelieving look. “You are! Zach, you can’t expect to be able to protect him from every germ.”

Zach looked down at Nathan again, sighing. “I know. But he’s so little. And it’s my job to protect him, and I feel…”

Chris knew without hearing the words. Lost. Helpless. Useless. He’d been keeping himself busy with recording things in the Moleskine in an attempt to fend off those very emotions. He carded fingers through Zach’s hair and leaned down to kiss him. Slowly. Gently. Trying to pour reassurance directly into Zach’s psyche, though he had all the same worries and fears.

They parted lips, barely, and breathed each other’s air heavily for several moments.

“You smell good,” Zach whispered, earning a huffed laugh.

“Showers are marvelous things,” Chris murmured. “As is that new sandalwood soap you bought. Go take one. Might make you feel better. And it will make us more presentable when we roll out of bed to take Nathan back to the doctor’s in three and a half hours.”

Zach leaned back and rubbed a hand down his face, exhaustion evident in every movement. “Maybe…”

“I’ll try to feed him some more,” Chris added, kissing him again.

“Okay.” Zach allowed Chris to take Nathan from his arms. He shuffled to the door, still looking hollowed out and bleak.

When he was gone, Chris shifted Nathan into their usual feeding positions and ran the bottle nipple against his lips a few times. They stayed stubbornly slack.

“Come on, Little Man. You’ve got us worried. You need to drink.”

If he took any more, it was less than half an ounce. Chris wrote it down anyway, and then moved the bassinet into the master bedroom and put the baby down. He was just getting back under the covers when Zach came in, looking marginally better.

“Any luck?”

“Maybe half an ounce. I’m glad we have another appointment this morning.”

Zach nodded but was quiet as he came back to bed, laying his head against Chris’ chest after turning out the lights.

Chris thought Zach might have fallen asleep when he whispered into the darkness. “Three months ago, I didn’t even know him. Didn’t know he existed. Three months ago, I felt invincible. Now I feel like there are fractures in my skin that are held together by tissue paper, and that if anything happens to him, I will splinter and shatter and blow away in the breeze.” Chris squeezed him tighter. “And I know I’m being over dramatic. I know this is mostly sleep deprivation and that he’s probably fine and that we’re lucky, but _god…_ what will I do if he’s not? This… I don’t want to go back to how I was.”

Neither did Chris. He kissed the top of Zach’s head. “That would never happen,” he whispered back. “He’s going to be fine.” He _had_ to be fine. “And whatever happens, you and I will face it together. Okay? We’re in it together.”

Zach nodded, clutching at Chris.

Chris held him, waiting for his breathing to even out, waiting for his muscles to relax and his grip to loosen as Chris carded fingers through hair. He listened for Zach’s breathing, and for Nathan’s, as though they were his own lungs breathing his own life. And he knew exactly what Zach meant.

In that book he’d reread earlier in the month, _Animal Dreams_ , the father had said something that he hadn’t understood until now. At least not viscerally. But as Zach slept fitfully in his arms and Nathan’s labored breathing rose from the bassinet next to him, he understood too well.

“God, why does a mortal man have children? It is senseless to love anything this much.”


	19. Day 85, 8:30 a.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is scarier than a sick baby.

The expression on the doctor’s face the next morning did nothing to ease Chris’ mind. He looked over the notes in Chris’ Moleskine and then examined Nathan thoroughly, pinching the skin on his arm (which caused Nathan to cry feebly and Zach to glare as only someone with those eyebrows can).

“He’s dehydrated,” the doctor finally said, typing something into the computer and then watching as the screen changed, maybe answering a query.

“We knew he wasn’t drinking enough,” Zach said. “We tried to feed him more—”

The doctor held up his hand. “I can see your efforts. You haven’t done anything wrong, but he’s losing ground. See how his skin remains depressed for a few seconds after being pinched? And he doesn’t have any tears.”

Chris could see Zach start to pale and shut down, and he was more than a little pissed at the doctor for being so blunt.

“What do we do?” he asked.

The doctor typed a few more things into the computer and then looked back up at them. “My goal is always to have children convalesce at home. There are so many worse things they can be exposed to in the hospital, but if this doesn’t turn around quickly, we’ll have to admit him and give him IV fluids until he’s back on his feet, so to speak.” He reached behind him and opened a cabinet, removing two bottles of clear liquid and an eyedropper.

“I’ve reserved a private waiting room for you for the next hour. You’re going to try to feed this to him, dropper by dropper. If he takes it and keeps it down, I’ll get you more and send you home until tomorrow morning. If not, we’ll admit him.” 

Zach blanched.

“What is it?” Chris asked.

“Oral Rehydration Solution. Basically, baby gatorade. You can buy some brands over the counter — Pedialyte, for instance — but for children under six months, I like this one better. He doesn’t get any formula while he’s on this.”

“He hasn’t wanted it anyway,” Zach said, looking down at Nathan.

“Okay, I’m going to have you moved, and then I’ll check back in on you in an hour. Try to feed him both bottles.”

“If you think he needs to be admitted… I mean, should we consider going straight to that?” Chris asked, looking to Zach for his thoughts on the matter.

The doctor shook his head. “His fever isn’t dangerous, yet. You’ve done a good job keeping that down. And there really are risks associated with exposure to the hospital environment. It’s better if we don’t have to take that route. I just want to make sure he’s got what he needs to fight this off, and dehydration can get very serious. It’s not yet, but we want to prevent that.”

The nurse came in and led them to another room… a surgical waiting room that was apparently unused at the moment. Zach held a sleeping Nathan while Chris dipped dropper after dropper in his mouth. And it didn’t seem like Nathan was drinking — he wasn’t latching on or sucking — but the clear, viscous fluid kept disappearing into his mouth and not coming back out. They just kept at it, Zach clearly too worried to talk and Chris focused on the task at hand. Chris assumed this would be daunting, endless work, but was surprised when after twenty minutes more than half the first bottle was finished, and Nathan was starting to move his mouth more as Chris put the dropper against his tongue. 

“He likes it,” Zach murmured.

Chris shrugged. “It’s sweet. After months of the baby version of brussel sprouts and chicken breasts he’s getting soda and chocolate cake. It’s a little party for his taste buds.” 

Zach rubbed Nathan’s cheek as Chris fed him, coaxing him along. Things were going faster now that Nathan was helping, too. Halfway through the second bottle, Nathan opened his eyes.

“There you are,” Zach said, smiling down at his son, who was gazing up at him. “We’re right here, Nathan. We’ve got you. Yup, Chris, too,” he added, as Nathan’s gaze moved to Chris after sucking on the dropper again. Chris realized it was the first time in a while that Nathan had been awake and not crying. He looked up at Zach’s face. He was still clearly worried, but he managed a small smile when he noticed Chris looking.

A few minutes later, the doctor came in. 

“We’re almost done with this,” Chris said as the doctor came over to run the same tests again, this time with a much more encouraging expression.

“Has he kept it all down?”

“Yeah, so far,” Zach answered.

“He’s responding much better. I’m going to send you home with several more bottles. If he keeps down another two bottles over the next three hours, start him back on formula. I’ll see you both here at eight tomorrow for another check.”

They went home and and resumed the task of caring for Nathan through his flu. And it wasn’t easy going, despite the improvement at the hospital. Nathan _didn’t_ keep it all down at first. They didn’t feel comfortable switching back to formula until around four, though he never got quite as listless or dehydrated again. Chris recorded information in his Moleskine all day, but by six he was shaky on his feet.

"When did you last eat?" Zach asked, turning his worry toward Chris.

"I don't know, a few hours ago? I don't think I can eat, though."

Zach scrutinized him from the rocking chair in the nursery, where he was watching Nathan sleep in his bassinet. He bit his lower lip. "Why don't you try taking a nap? I’m good for a few hours.”

“Neither of us have gotten enough sleep the last few days,” Chris said, rubbing a hand down his face. “Doesn’t seem fair to nap.”

“We’ll take turns. Get some rest. I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

Chris made his way to the empty master bedroom and tried to get comfortable, but sleep wouldn't come. Worse, inactivity made Chris restless and fretful. So long as he was being useful, he didn't have to think about... what Zach had allowed himself to ponder. And he couldn't. He just couldn't.

He got back up to find Zach asleep in the rocker and Nathan asleep and wheezing in the bassinet. Chris gave Nathan's head a soft touch and turned around, wandering down the hall to the laundry room. He folded tiny t-shirts and pants, matched socks that could fit over his own thumbs, and then ran another load of linens and burp cloths. When he was done there, he went to the kitchen and washed bottles, and loaded the dishwasher and wiped the counters down with disinfectant. There was no need to cook; they had plenty of leftovers in the fridge, and neither he nor Zach had eaten much in the last few days. 

When he finally couldn't think of any other chores, Chris went to the living room, lay on the couch and opened the Moleskine. He went over the charts of temperature and ounces drunk, wishing they would tell him something to do. Something other than waiting.

He must have dozed off, dreams of misplacing and losing nameless important items plaguing his sleep. He woke, anxious, to darkness and soft sounds teasing at his consciousness. His eyes were drooping again when he heard a distinct "oh my god." He bolted for the nursery.

He found Zach holding Nathan, who was half asleep and sucking on a pacifier. An empty bottle sat on the table, and Nathan was in fresh clothes. Had he slept through a whole feeding?

"Everything okay?" he asked as he noticed Zach fumbling with the thermometer.

"Can you take his temperature? I think I must have not gotten the angle right."

"Sure," Chris said, kneeling in front of the rocker. He tugged gently on Nathan's ear, making sure the thermometer had a good seal. A moment later it beeped, and Chris checked the readout. "That can't be right," he said, reinserting it to try again. He looked up at Zach's face. There was light in his eyes for the first time in days. The thermometer beeped again, and Chris checked it quickly before looking back to Zach.

"Is it 98.9?" Zach asked.

"Yeah," Chris said, stunned. He was so used to bad news he was feeling a bit weak-kneed.

Zach's tentative smile broadened to a full blown grin. "He's okay. And he drank a full two and a half ounces."

"Did you give him more acetaminophen?"

Zach shook his head. "The last time he had any was at two."

"And it's... eight-thirty," Chris said, glancing at the clock on the table. "So that's out of his system."

"So... he doesn't have a fever," Zach said, incredulously, all the tension that he'd carried for days melting away.

"It looks that way." Though Chris couldn’t quite believe it either. He felt strangely adrift — like this was a dream, too good to be trusted. 

"I'm going to put him back down; he's nearly asleep. Can you rinse the bottle?"

"Sure." He made his way to the kitchen, feeling more and more disjointed. He washed the bottle and put the nipple in the dishwasher basket to be sterilized. His hands were trembling, and he gripped the edge of the counter, fighting to steady his breath.

Because there was _no reason_ to panic now. Nathan was getting better and Zach had bounced back immediately. But now that Chris wasn't holding himself together with sheer will and adrenaline, he was fraying under the weight of all he wouldn't let himself consider before. He had no idea how dire Nathan's situation had been, but it had _felt_ dire, and it washed over him like a tidal wave as Chris stood clinging to the counter. And it was stupid, so stupid, and he just needed to—

"Chris?"

Chris nearly jumped out of his skin, and wiped his eyes before turning around.

Zach's voice was gentle, but his expression showed confusion and concern. Which didn't help at all. "What's wrong?"

Chris shook his head, turning his head and blinking away the threatening tears and trying to pull himself together. Zach approached slowly, finally standing before Chris and framing his face with both hands. "What is it?" Chris could only shake his head. "Is this about Nathan?" Chris nodded and cleared his throat. "But he's fine..."

"I know." Chris took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I'm sorry. This is just how I am: great in a crisis, but then when it's over I just fall apart like some old sweater with too many threads loose. I'll be okay in a minute. I just..." Chris waved a hand absently, hoping Zach would let it go. Too much scrutiny or kindness just made it worse, usually.

"Oh, my sweet baby," Zach whispered, stepping forward, tilting Chris' head back and kissing him. 

And that... that helped, actually. Chris's hands slid to Zach's waist, and he let himself luxuriate in the kiss… let it soothe him like a balm. They hadn't actually done this since Nathan had become ill. 

Zach ended the kiss and pulled Chris into a hug, solid and warm. "I love that you felt it as much as I did. And it's good you lose it after the fact, or we'd have both been a mess in front of the doctor."

"You weren't a mess."

"I really was." Zach tightened his embrace, and Chris wrapped his arms across Zach's back and just hung on. That surreal, anchorless feeling started to dissipate. Maybe he should have known Zach would make it fade away faster than it ever had before, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t even guessed that. He’d been bracing himself — trying to to pull _himself_ together, as he always did. And history told him he wasn’t always successful. He knew from previous experience that this did-I-just-nearly-lose-something-I-really-care-about-holy-fucking-shit feeling could send him into a downward spiral of existential angst for _days_. But the solid press of Zach’s chest against his, real and warm, made him feel both more secure and more needy. Not needy in a bad way. Needy in a I-finally-know-who-my-anchor-is way. He took another deep breath and blew it out. He felt nearly steady again, but he ached. 

“What can I do for you?” Zach whispered before pulling back and cupping his face again. He kissed Chris a few times. “What do you need?”

“You,” Chris answered without thinking. The truth of the statement was undeniable, though. 

“You have me.”

And that was true, too. God, that was fantastically, fabulously true. But in his hollowed out state, not quite enough.

“No,” he said, kissing back slowly. “I need _you._ ”


	20. Day 85, 9:00 p.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let me take care of you, Chris."

Understanding flickered across Zach's face. And something like caution.

"Chris?"

Chris shook his head slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. "I just feel like I came dangerously close to losing all of this — which is probably stupid." Chris knew they were safe now, but he couldn't help the lingering sense of loss. Near loss. God, he was a mess. Zach was going to think he was a disast—

"It's not stupid," Zach whispered, kissing him. “I felt that, too. It's... I just want your first time to be perfect, and we're both so exhausted."

Disappointment lanced through him. "Yeah..." But the idea of sleep felt ridiculous. And he'd just napped. "Can you sleep now?" Chris asked.

"No," Zach said, shaking his head and dropping one hand to Chris' waist, pulling him closer. With the other he still cupped Chris’ face, gently stroking the stubble on his cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I'm too relieved."

"Me neither. I feel... I don't know... shaky. And I just… I want to feel you _everywhere,_ but if you don't—”

That thought was interrupted with a scorching kiss, lasting just long enough for Chris to actually feel confused when Zach finally answered, “Never think I don’t want you. I _always_ want you, Chris. You say things like that to me, and I risk losing my fucking mind. God, I love you so much.”

And Zach was kissing him again. Backing him into the counter, pressing against him, cradling his head until Chris felt half drunk with it. _This_ was what he needed. Zach was every breath, every touch, every thought... and Chris still wanted more.

"I'll take care of you," Zach murmured against his lips, cutting off a whimper.

Zach led him back to the bedroom, peeled his shirt off and started exploring his skin with such intensity Chris felt like maybe they'd never done this before. As familiar as Zach's hands felt — and at this point they felt more welcome and familiar than any lover's Chris could recall — this still felt new. Knowing that the boundaries they'd erected were dissipating like mist made every touch more electric...but it also brought forth memories that were unwelcome.

“I want us to be close,” Chris blurted out as Zach finished undressing him.

Zach froze, confused. “I’ll be inside you—”

“I mean everywhere,” Chris said, pressing his chest against Zach’s and arms around his back. “Like this.” Because Chris couldn’t stand the idea of this feeling like _just a fuck_. He wanted wanted his first experience with Zach to feel nothing like the last time. He wanted their faces together and their breath — "And I want to face you," Chris added. "Before... He took me from behind, and I couldn't see..."

"Okay," Zach said quickly, brushing hair tenderly from Chris' face. "From behind is actually easier, but whatever you need is what we'll do. And if you want to stop — at any time — you tell me, and we'll do something else."

Chris nodded and trailed his hands to the hem of Zach's shirt, pushing it up. He felt Zach shiver as he pushed the T-shirt over his head. "Hi," he said, kissing Zach's lips as they became revealed again.

Zach smiled. "Hi," he whispered back, pulling Chris closer, skin on skin, mouth on mouth. Chris felt like he was taking a long drink after a run: he couldn't get enough. "Lie down," Zach whispered into his skin. Chris settled against the pillows, watching Zach as he pushed his own pants down and retrieved supplies from the drawer: the lube and towel he always got, plus a condom.

Chris swallowed, trying to force himself to stay calm. Zach hovered over him, whispering words of desire and love, dragging his lips along the lines of Chris' body. Worshipping Chris as he moved lower, until he was breathing on Chris’ cock, pushing Chris’ legs apart.

They had done this much before. And Chris was grateful, suddenly, that Zach had insisted on the “no penetration” rule when they first started exploring each other, because it really _had_ allowed him to just focus on the feeling. Chris _knew_ this felt good. Knew that when Zach swallowed down his cock and pressed a slick finger into his ass he would keen and writhe. That Zach would find his prostate and then Chris would be onboard with pretty much anything else Zach would want to do with him. At least that’s how these explorations had gone in the past. But as Zach slipped a second finger in and Chris breathed through the burn, the purpose behind the action couldn’t be ignored. And Chris wanted it. Wanted to feel Zach deep within him, wanted this physical proof of just how close they were and how much Zach was already inside him all the time.

But his mind was starting to fill with cotton. Distant memories of rougher fingers were niggling their way into his consciousness, even as he brutally shoved them aside, trying to focus on Zach’s smell and touch. Even as he tried to force himself to relax so Zach’s third finger wouldn’t meet so much resistance. And Zach was infinitely patient, as always, using copious amounts of lube and laving his cock between whispered encouragements. It took forever, but Chris finally felt himself relax.

“I need you up here,” he said, pulling at Zach’s shoulders. Because he knew what was coming next, and he needed Zach’s lips on his to remind himself that this was _Zach_ , in case he panicked.

“You sure you’re ready?” Zach asked, hand twisting a little awkwardly as he shifted up, kissing Chris’ chest as he came closer.

And Chris wasn’t sure, but knew he wasn’t going to feel any more sure without Zach’s face near his. As good as it felt to have so much attention paid to his cock, there was a risk of getting lost in sensation. Chris wanted to feel _Zach_ , pleasure from _Zach_ , not just pleasure.

“I think so.”

"Okay." Zach kissed him, shifting slightly to get his knees under himself. Chris savored it, chasing Zach's lips as he rose to kneel. Chris winced as Zach removed his fingers, and then lay in quiet apprehension as he watched Zach fumble with the condom. By the time Zach was leaning over him again, lining himself up, Chris' nerves were fraying. Zach pushed one of Chris’ legs up, hooking the knee over his elbow and leaning forward. Chris felt folded in half and pinned, the blunt tip of Zach’s cock against his hole. But before he could voice any discomfort, Zach’s face was by his, full of wonder and care. And Chris needed that. Needed Zach.

“I love you,” Zach said as he leaned closer.

Chris pushed the discomfort aside, looking up into Zach’s eyes. “I love you, too.”

“You tell me if you need me to stop.”

Chris nodded and reached up to thread his fingers into Zach’s hair, pulling him closer. He took deep breaths of Zach’s air and felt him begin to push in. And _fuck._ He was big. Which Chris knew — he’d had Zach’s cock in his mouth often enough to know how big it was, but it felt bigger. It felt — there was no way it was going to fit. Chris tried to relax, but he knew he was tensing, making it worse. Making it hurt. _Jesus_ , it was really starting to burn. He concentrated on the fact that this was Zach, who loved him, and would not hurt him on purpose. If he could relax it would get better. Zach pushed in further and Chris’ body screamed at him to reject the intrusion.

“Chris?”

Chris opened his eyes. He hadn’t meant to clench them shut. Hadn’t meant to make any sounds, but he suspected he had done that, too. Zach was tense, holding himself very still, just barely inside Chris. “Are you okay?”

Chris nodded, and took a shuddering breath.

“You need to—”

“Don’t tell me to relax,” Chris grunted, fighting the memories that were threatening.

“—breathe,” Zach finished, studying his face. Chris gasped and tried to get some control of himself.

“Go on,” Chris said, hoping that getting through the initial intrusion would help. But as Zach pushed in he tensed again.

“Okay,” Zach whispered, shaking his head. “We’re going to try something else.”

“No,” Chris said, wrapping his arms around Zach’s back and holding him in place, pulling him further in and wincing. “It’ll get better. I want you.”

“Chris,” he said, lowering his forehead to Chris’. “I want you, too. But I want you to want me next time, as well. And I’m hurting you. And I _can’t_ hurt you.”

“But—”

“Chris. Love. The angle’s bad. You’re getting the stretch, but no stimulation. We’re not giving up, but I can do better than this. I can make it better than this...so much better. But you have to trust me.”

Chris took another shuddering breath. “I do trust you.”

“Good.” And with a kiss, he pulled out. And even though it had hurt, Chris felt strangely empty and forlorn when Zach was no longer inside him. “Roll onto your stomach.”

“Zach?”

“I know you wanted to face me, but I promise this will feel better for you. And I’m not going to let you forget that it’s me here with you. Let me take care of you, Chris.”

Chris raised himself enough to kiss Zach again. And it was the same kiss they always shared. Perfect. And if Zach thought this would work better… well, he was the resident expert. Chris straightened his legs and rolled over, folding his arms so that his hands rested on either side of his head, as if he were waiting for a back rub.

“Good,” Zach whispered, shifting to straddle him and kissing the nape of his neck. A shiver ran down Chris’ spine.

Zach draped himself over Chris’ back, stroking up his arms until he could thread their fingers together. He pressed kisses into Chris shoulder and pressed Chris against the mattress, perfectly aligned from fingers to shoulders to hips. It was oddly comforting to feel Zach’s solid weight against him, anchoring him. And though the thick line of Zach’s erection pressed against the cleft of his ass, for now anyway it did not feel like an impending incursion, just more welcome weight and perhaps a bit of promise. Zach’s interest was unwavering, despite Chris’ pain and panic. And that was comforting.

“Better?” Zach asked. And how he knew this would help was a bit of a mystery, because they still had so many things to learn about each other, physically. But he was spot on.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Zach’s fingers unlaced from his and trailed back down his arms as his kisses shifted to the spot behind his ear that inevitably made him groan. He felt Zach’s smile as the kisses continued down his his spine, tongue tracing over the lines of muscle. He was getting hard again as Zach moved down his back, straddling his legs now. Chris shifted and got a hand under himself to adjust his cock into a more comfortable position, earning an appreciative hum against the small of his back. As he relaxed back down into the mattress, Zach trailed fingers along the inside of his legs, easing them apart and settling between them before leaning forward again and kissing the center of his back.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Chris gasped, feeling Zach’s fingers move from his back and down to his ass, cupping it lightly. Possessively. His breathing grew harsh as Zach kissed down his spine. And then a tongue, and hands spreading his cheeks, and —

“Holy shit!”

He could feel Zach grin against his ass — which was _weird_ — and then the tongue was back, and Chris sunk into a pleasure he'd never known. And any time it began to feel disassociated from reality, Zach's warm hand ran over his back in a way so familiar and comforting it made Chris ache. He was drawn out like taffy, at once taut and relaxed. He shifted, doing anything to grant Zach better access. He could feel himself open for Zach, but that feeling brought a growing need that had an edge he hadn't expected.

"Zach..." He wasn't even sure what he was asking for.

Zach kissed the swell of his ass. "You ready to try again?"

Was he? His stomach flipped, but the aching need persisted.

"Yes."

Before he could second guess himself, he felt Zach's cock at his opening, more slick than before.

"Get up on your hands," he whispered.

Chris realized that at some point he'd gotten his knees under himself, raising his ass to meet Zach's mouth, but his face and shoulders were still pressed into the mattress. He raised himself onto shaky hands.

"Perfect, now take a breath and exhale." He did, feeling Zach push in as he pushed out the breath. And this time, there was no pain. A stretch, yes. An intrusion, yes, but it felt oddly satisfying, especially when accompanied by the basically pornographic moan coming from Zach. Chris' cock twitched.

Zach pushed in slowly, and Chris arched, welcoming him in. And even though he'd resisted this position, he admitted it _was_ easier. And the way that Zach stroked his back and whispered his name left no room for confusion. This was _nothing_ like his previous experience. Zach wasn't taking anything from him. He was giving. And then he was in, all the way, his thighs pressed against the back of Chris', holding perfectly still with harsh, shuddering breaths, letting Chris adjust. And finally Chris couldn't take the stillness. He pushed back a fraction of a millimeter, and Zach hissed in surprise.

"Get up here, before you make me come like a teenager."

What? "Get where? You're inside me; I can't get closer." Zach was inside him — _inside_ him — and Chris didn't want him out. He just wanted more. He almost laughed at the realization.

"Come up here," Zach said, pawing at Chris' sides. "You wanted to be held, and I really need to hold you."

Chris pushed himself up to balance on his knees and Zach’s lap, precarious until Zach's arms reached around him and pulled him back, anchored him against Zach's chest. Zach's breath tickled the nape of his neck, and his wiry strength held Chris steady. From the waist up, this so familiar and loving, and from the waist down, it felt new and decadent and very, very sexy. With Zach's cock up his ass and his own knees splayed wide straddling Zach's lap, he felt exposed and vulnerable. But Zach's arms and strong chest and nuzzling kisses against his shoulder and neck made him feel protected and cherished. The juxtaposition was intoxicating and exactly what he needed.

Then Zach rolled his hips and —

Well, if there were words in Chris' moan, they weren't recognizable. Pleasure shot up Chris' spine, shorting out his brain a bit, but not so much that he missed Zach's smug, "There it is. See how much better this angle is?"

"Oh my god, Zach. Feels good..."

"Mmm... Good. I'm going to take care of you," he whispered, rolling his pelvis with one hand splayed over Chris' heart and the other on his hip. Chris held on, both hands clinging to Zach's, pressing it against his chest. He closed his eyes, and he could smell Zach, feel him everywhere, hear his breath and praise and he was quickly getting very close. He didn't want this to end too soon, but he needed more. He began to rock, too, in opposition to Zach, lengthening the strokes out and making the thrusts in harder and faster.

"Fuck. Careful," Zach moaned. "Or this will be over really soon. You feel so fucking good. You have no idea how long I've wanted you."

"If I'd known It could be like this I wouldn't have made you stick to blowjobs for weeks and weeks."

Zach huffed a laugh and kissed his cheek — or tried to, with all their movement, it was more like his ear. "That was fine. And that's not what I meant. I've wanted you for _years_. It feels so good to finally have you. I mean, not just _have_ you, but—”

“I love you too, Zach,” Chris whispered, pressing Zach’s hand into his chest. “And I really need you to fuck me harder.”

“Jesus. Okay,” Zach said, moving the hand that had been on Chris’ hip up over his chest to his shoulder, curving his fingers over the top and pulling down as he thrust.

“Fuck. That’s...fuck.” And it was better. And then the next thrust pushed him forward, almost to the point of losing his balance. And he was suddenly tempted — could suddenly _viscerally_ understand the appeal of being ass up and head down and fucked into the mattress.

He groaned imagining it, and then again with Zach’s next stroke.

He was going to have to store that little bit of information away for later, because right now he wasn’t going to do anything to upset the angle of Zach’s cock in his ass.

Plus, it really was true that he wanted to be held.

“Chris….Fuck, Chris, I’m almost there. Are you close?”

“Yeah, I just need—”

Zach’s hand dropped from his shoulder to his cock, giving him one stroke, two strokes…

And that did it. Chris came hard, spilling over Zach’s hand, arching against his chest. Zach pushed into him again and again, and then stayed deep inside him, tensing and crying out. Chris could actually feel Zach’s cock pulsing deep inside him, and it was… god, it was amazing.

They stayed like that, panting and clinging, until Chris felt his balance waver, exhaustion hitting him suddenly.

Zach kissed the back of his neck. “Okay?” he asked.

“Fantastic,” he whispered, squeezing the hand Zach had over his heart. “Just need to lie down before I fall over.”

Zach huffed a laugh. “This may ache a little,” he said as he gently pushed Chris up and extracted himself. And it did, but then he was falling forward onto the pillows and rolling onto his side and curling up for sleep. When he realized Zach hadn’t followed, he blindly reached an arm behind him.

“I’m right here, baby,” he heard from across the room. “Just got something to clean us up.” Zach gently wiped away the mess, and then was curling up behind him, spooning him gently.

Chris nuzzled back, pressing his ass against Zach’s crotch and earning a muffled laugh. Chris took Zach’s hand and pressed it against his heart, just as it had been before. Zach kissed his shoulder, tightened his embrace, and settled down to sleep.

His breathing was just starting to even out when Chris whispered, “Zach?”

“Hmmm?”

Chris turned his head toward the ceiling, pausing as he thought. “I think I might like bottoming, after all.”

A sleepy laugh rumbled through Zach’s chest, and he kissed Chris’ neck. “Well, that is _happy_ news. I’ll bottom for you whenever you like, but I like to top.” He grew more serious, squeezing Chris around the chest again. “I’m really glad you liked it.”

Chris brought Zach’s hand up to his mouth, kissing his fingers before pressing them back against his heart.

 

 

**Day 93, 3:00 a.m.**

“Chris!”

Chris leapt out of bed, rushing down the hall toward the nursery in his boxers, primed for an emergency. When he got there, the lights were dim and Zach was making googly faces at Nathan as he lay on his changing table. And that… wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Everything okay?” he managed to articulate.

“Everything’s fine, isn’t it Nathan?” Zach said in his soft sing-song voice. “Everything’s just fine, but you need to come over here. Chris needs to come over here, doesn’t he Nathan?”

Chris shook his head in amusement, padding forward to see what was going on… it didn’t sounds like an emergency linen change. As he drew close, Zach moved him to stand in front of him, hand on his waist and chin on his shoulder.

“Hey Little Man, why are we partying at three in the morning?”

Nathan’s gaze moved from Zach’s face to Chris’. And then there was a moment of clear recognition. His face broke into a wide grin, complete with a dimple in his left cheek, crinkled eyes, a happy gurgle and kick of his feet.

“Oh my god.”

“We couldn’t let Chris miss your first smile, could we, Nathan?”

Nathan’s gaze switched back to Zach again, and his toothless grin widened.

“No, we had to drag his ass out of his warm bed. But I don’t think he minds, does he?”

Nathan squealed and grinned.

It wasn’t as big as the smile on Chris’ face, though. His cheeks were actually growing sore. He put his hands over Zach’s and wrapped them around himself.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You had to be here, too.”

“Oh, did you get a picture? I’ll go get my phone.”

Zach held him still. “Don’t. Let’s just enjoy it. We’ll get pictures tomorrow when the light is good, but this is just for us.”

They just stood there basking in Nathan’s smiles until his little mouth stretched in a humongous yawn. Chris had no idea how he even did that.

Zach put him back in the crib they’d switched him to three days ago. The bassinet was sitting empty in the corner of the room, a reminder that they had closed the first chapter of Nathan’s life.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked Zach, who was slowly backing away from the crib, trying not to disturb Nathan as he slipped back into sleep.

Zach looked over his shoulder, smiling a little. “We’re ready for OUT?”

Chris pulled him into a kiss. “Yeah,” he whispered against Zach’s lips. “We’re ready for OUT.”

 

* * *

 

Chapter note: I received a special treat today that seemed to go so well with this chapter, I couldn't resist sharing it.

It's a present from Acting-Captain, who deserves all the credit for this amazing original art:

http://acting-captains-log.tumblr.com/image/112699920763


	21. Day 117, 1:30 p.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A private OUTing in New York...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A GAZILLION apologies for the long delay between chapters. My RL has been crazy, and once I lost the momentum of the story, it was hard to get it back. I have most of the next (last) chapter written too, but want some time to tighten it up. In the mean time, we finally get the image that launched a thousand words, or something...

"Nervous?"

Chris looked up at the numbers changing above the elevator door. "A bit", he answered, turning to face Zach. God, he was ridiculously handsome. And the very best friend he’d ever had. Chris couldn’t help a small smile as he added, "but that doesn't mean I don't want to do it."

Zach smiled back and rocked Nathan in his carrier. He'd woken up about forty minutes ago, and he was in good mood, despite the jet lag they were all suffering. They were in New York for a week, meeting with Zach's contact at OUT early and then taking care of some other meetings for various projects.

A bell dinged, indicating that they'd arrived. They stepped out into a loft space with a photography set-up in one corner, complete with painted backdrops and lights. A sofa and chairs were arranged by the window, where two men were standing and talking softly. They looked up as Chris and Zach entered.

"Zach!" The taller man walked over with a welcoming hand outstretched. "Good to see you, man." Zach moved Nathan's carrier to his left side so he could shake hands.

"Liam. Thanks for meeting us."

"Of course! I’m glad we could make this work in time for the for the Faces of Family edition.” Liam turned to Chris, extending his hand. “Liam McConner. I’m looking forward to hearing your stories.”

“Chris Pine,” Chris said, shaking his hand. “I’m looking forward to getting them out there.”

“And this must be Nathan,” Liam added, kneeling down to get a closer look at the smiling baby swinging gently in the carrier. “Wow.” Liam looked back and forth between Zach and Chris. “You know, there’s a rumor you guys got a surrogate with features like Chris’.”

“Well, hopefully we can cut through the rumors a bit," Zach said.

Liam led them over to the sofa and took coffee orders. Chris lifted Nathan out of the carrier as Zach spread out toys and other distractions.

“Oops. Looks like someone needs a change,” Chris whispered.

“We just changed him.”

“And we just fed him. What’s your point?”

Zach rolled his eyes and spread the changing pad out on the sofa. They were a well-oiled baby-changing machine at this point. Chris handed Zach a diaper and baby wipes and got out one of the sweet-smelling diaper disposal bags that allowed them to toss the diaper in a standard garbage can without making non-parents retch. As they cleaned up, Chris straightened the laces on one of Nathan's little shoes.

"He looks so big in this outfit," Chris whispered, barely seeing the floppy little infant they'd brought home months ago in this gurgling baby.

"I know. Between the shoes and the smiles and the fact he's holding his head up, he's quickly approaching the Gerber Baby stage," Zach answered. "I'm happy to see him thriving, but it's a little scary how fast it's going."

Chris squeezed his shoulder and walked across the room to throw the diaper away. He washed his hands in the small bar sink and then took Nathan so Zach could do the same. Finally, they settled on the sofa, side by side, with Nathan balanced on Zach’s knee closest to him. Coffee, an iPod, and various toys were spread on the table.

“Ready?” Liam asked.

Chris’ stomach flipped. The mundane activities of changing Nathan and getting him comfortable had momentarily distracted him from why they were here. To out themselves… himself, really. He turned to Zach, who was watching him carefully. Whatever nerves he may have felt died. This was his life. Zach and Nathan. It was time the world knew.

“Absolutely,” he said, with an almost Kirkian grin.

Zach suppressed a smile as Liam turned on an app on the iPad to record their conversation.

“Let’s start with you, Zach,” he said. “I read in an interview six months or so ago that you wanted to have a baby before you were forty. Now you have one. Was this all part of a plan?”

“God, no!” Zach laughed. “At least, things have turned out much better than any plan I could have devised. When I said that, I was imagining adopting. I still think it’s so important to offer homes to children that don’t have them. And I thought, when I said that, that I was with a partner that felt the same way. Not that we’d discussed it much, but it seemed that way. Nathan is my biological son, as you can probably tell from the eyebrows and hair. I won’t say much about his mother, for the sake of her privacy, but we are old friends who got together when I was not dating anyone. And when Nathan was born, it sent so many of my plans out the window — a relationship, and that plan for adoption, and several acting projects — but it also started this amazing adventure. And made me look at relationships I thought I understood in new ways.” Zach turned to Chris, and if Liam hadn’t been clear what he meant by those words, Zach’s look left no room for confusion.

“So, the two of you didn’t get together until after Nathan was born?”

Chris shook his head. “My best friend called me at three in the morning, sounding completely lost. I cleared my schedule and flew out within hours,” Chris said. “That’s just what we do.”

“But that’s not how it is now.” It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Chris said. “No. That’s how it was when I flew out to help him when Nathan was born. That’s how it was when the two of them first moved into my place while Zach’s was being renovated. But somewhere in the midst of 3 a.m. feedings and naptimes, the relationship grew.”

“And is that when you discovered you were bisexual?”

“Uh, no,” Chris answered, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ve known that since high school.”

Surprise suffused Liam’s expression. And if this were a normal conversation, he might have asked another question, but he just gave Chris space and waited for him to continue. Chris scrubbed his face. He really didn’t want to go into this, but some version needed to be told, or it would look like he’d been lying to Zach or in a closet for years. Zach looked like he was about to intervene, and Chris put his hand on Zach’s thigh to stop him.

Turning back to Liam he asked, “You know how some people have a really bad experience with tequila in college? They try Cuervo, they like it, but somehow, one night, everything goes terribly wrong? Then they can’t even stand the _smell_ for a decade? And then ten years later, someone offers them Patron Silver, and it’s familiar but new, and so much better than they remember? It’s ambrosial. And they feel stupid for avoiding it for so long?”

Liam shrugged a little and nodded. Chris raised a meaningful eyebrow, and Liam’s eyes widened in understanding.

Zach snorted. “Am I meant to be the Patron in this travesty of a metaphor?”

“This is actually an analogy, but yes… top shelf all the way.” Zach rolled his eyes, muttering something about English geeks, but it was clear he was fighting laughter. “Oh, baby,” Chris said softly, “is Patron too bourgeois? You can be Trago if that appeals more to your hipster sensibilities.”

“Shut up,” Zach chuckled, bumping his shoulder into Chris’. Nathan squealed, wanting in on the attention, so Chris picked an Ugly Doll off the table and bumped his belly with it. Nathan tried to close his arms around it, but only caught air as Chris pulled it back. He lunged forward trying to chase it, and Zach held the squirming child steady.

Liam bit his lip, obviously fighting for a professional demeanor. “So the epic bromance that has been reported since the first Star Trek film?”

“Really was an epic bromance until quite recently… when Nathan was about two months old, I think,” Chris answered, turning to Zach for confirmation.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Chris said. “Sorry we can’t confirm some great conspiracy and scandal. The actual story is sort of boring.”

“Hardly.”

“That being said,” Zach added, “I think there was more to it all along than either of us was willing to admit. We were each in other relationships much of the time we’ve been friends, and between that and working together, friendship felt natural. But it was always intense, and hard for me to define for people who didn’t see us together.”

Zach was starting to talk with his hands, or wanting to — which was hard while holding a baby. Chris gestured to Nathan in silent offer, and Zach shifted to let Chris take him. Zach’s hands immediately went into Italian overdrive, and Chris bit back a smile. Nathan pushed his toes into Chris’ thighs and reached for his beard as Zach continued to talk.

“And in a way I think it was good that we were friends for the better part of a decade before we started dating. I’ve had a tendency, I think, to project in past relationships. To hear a few things that supported what I wanted to be true, and then make too many assumptions about what my partner wanted, and how it was similar to what I wanted. But with Chris, this really rich and intense friendship came first. We’ve spent a lot of time together, and have become really, really great friends. We know so much about each other — the good, of course, but also a lot of the things you hide from most people, even most friends. All those press junkets and long hours on set and early morning workouts after not enough sleep, they gave us a real window into each other, a bond based on more than most people learn about each other by going on a few dates. And when the nature of that relationship changed, I think we were both really careful to communicate and not get ahead of ourselves, because the friendship was at stake. We were both protective of it. So the pitfalls that I’ve experienced in other relationships, due to my own assumptions, haven’t happened in this one. And where I have tripped up, we have enough foundation to work through it.”

“You sound happy,” Liam noted.

Zach turned and looked at Chris, who was caught kissing Nathan’s hand. He gave him that grin… the goofy one that they shared so often. “I can honestly say I’ve never been happier.”

Chris felt his face warm, but Nathan’s squeal distracted them all before his face got too sappy. At least he was pretty sure… though the way that the photographer was looking at him — like there was a money shot he was just itching to get — he could be wrong.

Sure enough, Liam suggested they move the interview over to the portrait studio corner of the room, while Nathan was in such a good mood. They set the shot up, Chris sitting on a stool, and Zach standing beside him holding Nathan, who was smiling and gurgling and squealing right up until the fill lights came on. And then he had that startled, wary look that he got in new situations. Chris got up and grabbed the Ugly Doll off the table, offering it to Liam, who tried to coax a smile out of Nathan as Chris and Zach posed for the camera. And the longer it went one, the more confused and concerned Nathan looked, and the harder it was for Chris to not just completely crack up. One last flailing attempt from Liam, and Nathan let out a little “eep,” glanced at Chris, and then looked back at Liam like he was an alien — not scary, but definitely not to be trusted. And Chris just lost it. Which made Zach lose it. Pretty soon the only one not laughing was the baby.

“I will say one thing about this relationship,” Chris said, wiping his eyes and trying to stifle his giggles. “I’ve never laughed so much. I mean, Zach and I always had a lot of fun together, but there’s something about the daily life with an infant… you just end up laughing a lot.”

“Or crying, but laughing is the healthier response,” Zach added.

They continued the interview, Liam asking about coming out to their friends and family, and especially about Chris coming out as bisexual so late in life.

“My family’s been great, and so have most of my friends,” Chris answered. “Including some of my ex-girlfriends that I’m still in touch with. Those were interesting conversations. People sometimes assume that if you’re with a man now, the relationships you had with women must have been unsatisfying or lacking. Maybe that’s even true for people who are denying the fact that they are gay, or still figuring it out. But for people who are genuinely bisexual, it’s not like that. Those relationships ultimately ended, but they were very real while they lasted.” He glanced at Zach, who was giving him a warm smile. They’d talked about this. Just like they’d talked about the fact that Zach was sending pictures of Nathan to Miranda in rehab. Neither of them was particularly threatened by the other’s past.

“So everyone is supportive?”

“Most people who have known me over the last decade know how important Zach is to me. It’s made sense to everyone, and they see how happy we are. Plus, everyone’s in love with Nathan.”

“And professionally?”

“That’s still playing out. Ask me again in a year or two. But I have some interesting projects in the works with people who know we are together, so it’s promising.”

They talked together for a full two hours. Chris was sure Liam had way more material than he needed for the OUT piece, but Liam and Zach seemed to have a rapport that bordered on friendship, and he seemed genuinely interested about their lives. By the time it was over, they’d had to feed Nathan again and he was getting sleepy, head lolling on Chris’ shoulder. It was time to go.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Liam said, standing and reaching over to shake their hands. “I’ll send you a courtesy copy before it goes to print.”

“Thanks, man,” Zach said. “We look forward to it.”

When they left the building and stepped out into the sunshine, Chris felt light, like he could sprint or maybe fly.

"What now?" he asked, turning his face to the sun and bouncing on his toes a bit.

“Well, we could go back to the hotel and let Nathan take a nap.”

Chris’ face must have fallen, because Zach was snorting as he continued, “ _Or_ we could put Nathan in a snuggly and walk around the city some. I could show you all my favorite spots.”

“That!” he said, pointing at Zach for emphasis. “I choose door number two. I want to see Zachary Quinto’s New York City.

“Someone’s punchy,” Zach said with a smile. Chris expected he was also relieved to have the interview done. “Okay. Let’s drop some of this off at the car and then go for a walk. We’re not that far from the theater district.”

They left the car seat carrier and diaper bag, Chris putting just a few items in a courier bag. Zach shed his button-down shirt, revealing a grey t-shirt, and strapped the snuggly carrier onto himself. They stripped Nathan of several layers of clothes, too, worrying he would overheat once he was pressed into Zach's chest. Then they expertly maneuvered the squirming, kicking infant into the snuggly carrier. It had been a long learning curve. The first time they'd tried to use it, multiple attempts and consultation with the web had not guaranteed success. Now they had it down to a 10-second operation, and Nathan often didn't realize what was happening until he was secured and blinking in surprise at his sudden confinement.

He was not complaining today. He took his pacifier and leaned forward against Zach's chest, ready to ignore the world and sleep. It tugged at Chris’ heart as Zach wrapped an unnecessary arm around his son, relaxed and protective and happy. Chris pulled a small hat out of the diaper bag and placed it on Nathan's head so he wouldn't get sunburned during his nap, and Chris and Zach donned their own hats and sunglasses.

"So, where to?"

Zach smiled at him, turning and nodding down the street. Chris stepped into place beside him, hands in his pockets so he wouldn't reach out for Zach. Shoulder to shoulder, they explored the city: Zach's New York. His eyes were bright as he showed Chris favorite cafés and music stores and bookshops, leaning into him and pointing upward at some detail of architecture. And Chris couldn't help grinning, seeing Zach like this, in this place. He was animated. Not haunted by memories of a failed relationship, but happy as he brought Chris up to speed on what he loved about New York. And even though Chris had seen many of these landmarks before, even with Zach, this felt different. This felt like being admitted to part of Zach’s life he’d missed for the most part, but was now part of. And he could see Zach fitting in here. He was relaxed in a way that Easterners only seemed on the East Coast. It was a new view of him, and Chris watched Zach greedily, trying to make this new knowledge fit with what he already knew.

They walked for an hour before Nathan woke up, hungry and curious. They stopped at a café and ordered coffees, plus a large cup of hot water to warm a bottle in. And they got looks, but they weren’t the kind Chris might have expected. People were smiling at them, making googly eyes at Nathan and nodding to them in approval or humor or camaraderie. No censorship for being two men with a child, and no intrusive fascination. If they were recognized, he didn’t notice anyone taking pictures or whispering. Chris was surprised at how much more relaxed he felt here than he would at say, LAMILL. But then, once they were out in earnest and not worried about being caught, he could see himself at a table just like this one on a sidewalk in Silverlake as well. And it was a happy thought.

After the short snack they continued walking north toward the park, Nathan stimulated by the people and bright colors, and Zach leaning down to whisper things to him and point out exotic sights — like pretzel stands. And Chris couldn’t take it anymore.

“Give me your phone,” he said.

“What, why?” But Zach didn’t hesitate; he just reached in his back pocket and handed the phone to Chris, who unlocked it as he switched to the camera app.

“Because you guys are fucking adorable, and you’re going to want to post this on one of your pretentious, hipster, online, social communication platforms.” He lined the shot up, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

Zach rolled his eyes but posed. “Are you actually endorsing and facilitating an Instagram?”

“Don’t tell my publicist,” Chris said, handing back the phone with a grin. “It might give him crazy ideas about _me_ getting an account. And just, no.”

Zach’s eyes softened when he looked at the picture, and then his thumbs flew as he created the post. A moment later he handed the phone back so Chris could read the caption: “In one of my favorite towns with my favorite boys.”

 [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/55449539@N08/16997148386)

“Okay?” Zach asked a little shyly.

Chris’ smile was so big it hurt. He just nodded and walked toward the park, feeling elated as Zach fell into step beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*whispers* I know that baby is more like 6-months old... and I know that the image I have of Nathan in the next chapter looks about 10-months old...let's all suspend our disbelief together, shall we? Turns out, it's very hard to find pictures of 3-month olds from any kind of distance for use in manips... thank you for your understanding.)


	22. Day 128, 4:30 p.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how the world found out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of the main fic. I am both immensely relieved and a bit sad. Thanks so much to Juno and NixDucky for their beta help and occasional hand holding, and so many Pinto Bar patrons for their support and encouragement. And you commenters... you really helped me out, and I'm sorry if I neglected answering anyone.
> 
> There is still a lot of head canon that just never made it into the story (what WAS Zach saying in Italian? How insufferably smug WAS Margo when Zach called with the news?). So I imagine there will be outtakes and such posted in the universe, probably in no particular order.

Chris glanced at Nathan in the electric swing, hunched over so far that his forehead was resting on the little tray. It looked painful, but Nathan was breathing evenly and was apparently content. They were outside in the back patio area, enjoying the fuschia-filtered sunlight and soft breeze. They’d been continuing Alice’s adventures in “Through the Looking Glass,” but Chris switched to his script when Nathan dozed off, and now he was fighting droopy eyelids himself.

“Chris! It’s here!” The front door banged shut, and Chris leapt up to sprint to the front of the house.

“He’s sleeping! He’s sleeping!” Chris stage-whispered.

“Shit, sorry.” Zach removed the courier bag from his shoulder and wrapped an arm around Chris’ waist and pulled him close. “Hi,” he whispered before brushing his lips against Chris’. And even though they’d been welcoming each other home like this for weeks now, it still sent a thrill through Chris.

“What’s here?” Chris asked as the kiss finally ended.

Zach held up a large manila envelope.

“The courtesy copy from Liam?”

Zach nodded. “Let’s open a bottle of wine and have a look.”

Zach opened the package and placed the magazine on the counter as Chris poured two glasses of Falanghina. He pulled a large Post-It note from the top. Two wizened, elderly faces stared out from the cover. The lower corner read: "After Thirty-Five Years Together, Through Wars and Battles With Cancer, Dave and John Were Able to Marry in 2013." Across the top in large block letters was "The Faces of Family."

"God, it's beautiful," Zach whispered.

"Yeah. Can you imagine the story they have to tell? I wonder if a film will ever be made like that." And what an honor it would be to portray a story like that. He looked up at Zach, whose thoughts seemed to be running along similar lines, judging from the almost reverent expression on his face.

"Can you imagine thirty-five years?"

Chris moved closer, sliding a hand to Zach's waist and stepping half behind him. He rested his chin on Zach's shoulder and looked down into those two faces, imagining them as himself and Zach, grey and with much deeper laugh lines.

"Actually, yeah. I can." He moved to kiss Zach's cheek, but was surprised when Zach turned abruptly and claimed his mouth.

"Chris." Just his own name murmured against his lips, and the feel of Zach's arms pressed against his back, and he felt lost and found simultaneously.

He opened his eyes as Zach ended the kiss and pressed their temples together. "Ready to see the rest?"

He nodded. "Let's go to the patio." Nathan was probably fine, and should stay asleep another hour, but it was better to be sure.

There were so many stories, each a two to six page spread complete with pictures. Some of the pictures were almost noble, like the ones on the cover. Others were hysterical, like the one of Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka’s twins climbing all over them during an obvious tickle fight. Some of the stories were about famous people: Ellen Degeneres and Portia de Rossi, George and Brad Takei, Jennifer Finney Boylan and her family. And then others who weren’t famous, but were just as compelling. The couple from the cover whose children consisted of a menagerie of horses and dogs. A couple in Indiana who now lived with the ailing mother who had thrown one of them out as a teen for being gay, but now relied on them both for care and spoke out on the beauty of their relationship and the desire to see her sons married. Page after page, story after story, each more mesmerizing than the last, until finally they turned the page and found a very familiar blue-eyed baby staring out of the page at them.

“Oh my god,” Zach breathed.

Chris took his hand. It was surreal, seeing themselves as part of this… this whole. The community that they were part of in a meta sense, though they really only knew George and a few others personally. And then Chris snorted a laugh, because though there were small black and white candids from the interview scattered in the margins showing Nathan smiling on Zach’s lap or playing with Chris’ beard, the large picture was from the end of the disastrous portrait shoot, when Chris was laughing so hard he nearly fell off his stool and Zach was looking at him like he’d hung the moon and Nathan was staring straight into the camera. Not laughing.

“Remind me again why we waited until he could smile,” he said, biting his lip against a grin.

“Shut up and read,” Zach said, laughing. “And that was your idea, so no complaining that he doesn’t have our natural affinities for the camera.”

Chris kissed his shoulder in apology, still chuckling as he started to read their story as if it were someone else’s. It started:

“The first thing I notice as Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto enter the room is the way they move around each other. I had seen the footage of the Star Trek outtakes and interviews — full of high-fives and touches and fits of giggles — and I'd read descriptions of how compatible they were on set. But none of that really captures the fluid way in which they move together, anticipating each other's needs as they transfer a baby carrier, diaper bag, and miscellaneous contents until they are settled together, baby propped on Zach’s lap, a stuffed animal in Chris’ hand, and an array of infant armaments at their feet. Ready to meet the world as one.”

Liam did justice to their story, making it seem both like an accident of fate and completely inevitable, romantic and hysterical. But the last lines were Chris’ favorite.

“As I look at these two men, these friends of ten years thrown together in unexpected circumstances and discovering love, I see something solid and enduring. I see a family.”

He leaned back, watching Zach as he finished reading and wiped his eyes.

“He did a good job,” Chris said, squeezing Zach’s hand.

“Yeah. I don’t think anyone is going to be able to paint this as some torrid affair now.”

“And we’re in incredible company,” Chris added, nodding to the magazine.

Zach hummed in assent, flipping through the last few pages of the magazine. There were two stories after theirs, but neither he nor Zach seemed to be in the mood to read anymore. Zach closed the magazine, and it looked weighty, like they were part of something bigger than themselves. Having the interview in this issue with so many other stories put their own concerns and cares into a broader context and perspective. It made their story feel at once less important and more so. It was still their story, unique and special to them. But it was part of something. Not just a titillating Hollywood celebrity headline. Chris was sure that would still come, but it seemed less scary to see that their story was just one of a dozen, and whatever out-of-context quote some tabloid printed wouldn’t be the way the story unfolded. Seeing the article made Chris feel brave, even as he got a jolt of butterflies to think of it in the hands of the public.

“When does it hit the shelves?”

Zach looked at the Post-It note. “Day after tomorrow. I should write Liam and tell him how pleased we are.”

“You realize we’re going to need about twenty copies to give to our friends and family. And our mom’s are probably going to want them for _their_ friends as well.”

“Do you want me to ask him for more copies?”

Chris shook his head. “I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to get them locally.”

Zach leaned forward and kissed Chris. “It’s going to be a madhouse.”

“Just for a while. And I’ll be happy to not hide when we take Nathan to the park.”

“Me, too.”

Two days later Chris woke abruptly, spooning Zach from behind — which is how he always woke now. Zach’s breaths were even and slow. He snuggled his nose against Zach’s neck, feeling warm and content, and then his stomach flipped. And though it was still dark out, he knew he wasn’t going to get back to sleep. He kissed the nape of Zach’s neck and untangled himself.

Wearing sweats and warming his hands on a coffee mug, Chris went out to the patio. The sky was just beginning to lighten, shifting from indigo to periwinkle, to the very shade of blue he remembered on that first morning — the sky that changed his life. It was his favorite color now, and he should probably get up early and watch more sunrises so he could enjoy the hope it brought him. Or maybe he was just becoming a big sap.

“You okay?” Zach startled him from the patio door. He was wrapped in a blanket and didn’t look quite awake.

“Yeah, just watching the sunrise.”

Zach looked at him like he was crazy.

“You want some coffee?” Chris asked, raising his cup.

“Not for another three hours at least. We should be sleeping.” He padded over and ran a hand through Chris’ hair. “Did Nathan wake you?”

“Nope. Just. It’s hitting the shelves today, and I couldn’t sleep. And this is what the sky looked like that morning I flew to Pittsburgh, and I just wanted to enjoy it.”

Something softened in Zach’s gaze, and he turned to look over the tops of the orange trees to the brightening sky. The sun still hadn’t cleared the mountains, and the color changed as one looked east to west. “It’s a good sky,” Zach said softly, wrapping the blanket more tightly around himself and sitting in the chair next to Chris. He reached for the coffee and took a sip. “You know, we can just stay in today. No reason to invite chaos.”

“But I don’t want to,” Chris said, taking Zach’s hand and raising it to his lips. “I’m scared, don’t get me wrong, but it’s exciting. I get to hold your hand in public today, and if the world doesn’t like it they can go fuck themselves.”

Zach flashed him a brilliant smile and then ducked his head and looked back at the brightening sky. They sat quietly as the shadow of the mountain became horizontal and then disappeared as the sun broke over the crest.

“Come on,” Zach said, standing.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to bed.”

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep.”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” Zach asked with a wicked grin and a flash of eyebrows. He turned, blanket trailing behind him, and Chris followed with a laugh.

Four hours later, they were fed and dressed and parked on West Sunset just as the shops were opening. There were no decent newsstands in the part of Silver Lake they usually frequented, but Circus of Books was on the edge of the neighborhood, and it had a huge magazine section. He and Zach sometimes went there to browse new books, getting recommendations from Eleanor, the manager. Chris was pretty sure that they'd have enough copies of the Faces of Family edition that he wouldn't clean them out. Plus, if you were going to engage a potential media circus... well, it seemed an appropriate venue.

The sidewalk was crowded on this sunny morning, full of shoppers and strollers and people walking their dogs.

"You ready for this?"

"Yup," Chris said, still scanning the area for telephoto lenses. He wasn't sure if he was hoping to see them, or hoping not to see them. But either way, sitting in the car and fretting wasn't helping his nerves. "Let's strap you up."

"That always sounds so much kinkier coming from your mouth than it is in reality," Zach grumbled, grabbing Nathan’s snuggly carrier from the back seat. Chris chuckled and got out of the car, removing Nathan from the car seat and helping Zach get him secured to his chest.

They walked the first block toward the bookstore close enough that their hands brushed nodding and smiling at people as they passed on the street. They were getting a lot of smiles, but nothing that couldn't be attributed to a cute guy with a cute baby strapped to him. Nothing that indicated they'd been recognized.

Chris took a steadying breath and threaded his fingers through Zach's, relishing the small squeeze he got in return. And the earth didn't quake or the sky turn to ash... They may have gotten an additional smile or two, but that was it. Still a sunny, beautiful day. And the connection felt good, and he regretted when they had to separate so he could open the door for Zach and usher him through threshold with a hand on the small of his back.

They made their way through the crowded shop to the magazines, where the OUT issue was displayed front row with about fifteen copies. Chris sifted through the magazines further back in the display to see if there was another stash when the manager rushed by with a stack of “The Girl on the Train.”

“Eleanor!” Zach called. She turned and flashed them a smile, nodding to indicate she’d be right back.

“There aren’t any more back here,” Chris said, finishing his search. “We could buy five or ten of these, but I’d hate to wipe her out.”

“Hey, guys!” she said, coming up beside them. “What can I help you find?”

“Do you have more of these?” Zach asked, holding up a copy.

“Yeah, behind the counter. Why? How many do you want?”

“Twenty, if you can spare them,” Chris said. “If not we can go somewhere else for some of them.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of copies.”

“Well,” Chris opened to the page with their story. She scanned it for a moment, and then the magazine was crushed between them as she gave Chris a hug.

“Ohmygodohmygod, I knew it. I knew you weren’t just roommates.” She turned and gave Zach a hug too, much to Nathan’s alarm. “Don’t buy these,” she said, taking the folded one out of his hand and putting it in the back of the stack. “You need pristine copies. I’ll get the ten I haven’t unwrapped, and then order you as many more as you want. If I put in the order before noon, I’ll have them by tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I think I‘ll need more copies anyway. Do people know?”

“Our families and friends, but this is the first public —”

“Outing,” Zach finished with a smirk. “Though based on the number of phones I see out, I expect the Twitterverse will soon be exploding.”

Eleanor’s outburst had drawn attention, and Chris noticed phones being subtly removed from pockets and pointed in their direction. And though it still made him feel prickly, for once he felt empowered. He took Zach’s hand again, following Eleanor to the register and making the purchase.

She gave him a wink as she handed him the bag. "Good luck," she said, eyes darting to the customers recording the transaction and the small crowd gathering on the sidewalk outside. "The rest will come in tomorrow. I'll hold them behind the desk for you; just come by any time to collect them."

"Thanks, Eleanor. And don't worry. We're going to be fine," Chris said.

He startled at the door to the shop, cursing his famous last words as he saw just how many people had congregated on the sidewalk during their short time in the store. Chris could hear their names being called and the click of fake camera shutters, and even a few real ones, as if this were some freakishly casual red carpet event featuring haute yoga couture. After a stunned moment they both seemed to slip into that mode, pausing and posing. Chris slipped a hand on Zach's back, as he so often did when photos were being taken of them, and he felt Zach's on his shoulder, knowing the other would be wrapped protectively around Nathan's back.

"So much for our casual trip to town," Chris muttered through his smile.

"You can't be surprised," Zach whispered back. "Though we did manage to get ourselves cornered like a couple of novices."

Chris tried to find a gap they could escape through when Nathan let out an alarmed cry.

“Hey! Hey, Little Man,” Chris said, turning toward Zach and putting his free hand on the side of Nathan’s face, blocking his view of the crowd. Nathan’s mouth was turned down, lower lip out so far it was almost funny. But the tears welling in his eyes were nothing to laugh at. “Don’t be scared. Daddy and I are right here, and everything’s fine.” The sounds of the crowd seemed to fade as he focused on Nathan. “We can go to that children's book store you like so much. Or the park. Should we go to the park next and swing?” Nathan’s face was relaxing as Chris talked and stroked his temple. He felt Zach squeeze his shoulder in encouragement. “Don’t you worry, they don’t want to hurt us.” And Chris realized it was true. They may get nasty comments later, but this crowd just seemed curious and happy. Chris leaned in and kissed Nathan’s brow, and felt him give a shuddering breath and a little mewl that meant the crisis was averted.

“My magic baby whisperer,” Zach mumbled, tightening his arm around Chris.

“That why you keep me around?”

“Mostly,” Zach muttered. “Plus the excellent sex and frittatas,” he added in an even softer voice.

Chris huffed a laugh. He felt suddenly jubilant.

“Remember when you said that you wanted to come out by walking down Rodeo Drive hand in hand?”

“Yeah.”

“How about a kiss on West Sunset, instead?”

Zach’s eyes widened, but his smile was all the answer Chris needed.

He leaned forward, hearing Zach’s “I love you” just before their lips met, and barely noticing the renewed excitement of the camera shutters around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading.


End file.
